


At Least it Wasn't His Dad

by tvshowjunkie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Prison, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvshowjunkie/pseuds/tvshowjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, a detective in Beacon Hills, just got assigned a new case. His boss, the beautiful Lydia Martin, has forced Stiles to become a parole officer for Derek Hale, who murdered a woman in cold blood. The only problem is that Stiles just put Derek's uncle in jail. Will Derek take revenge for what Stiles did? Will Derek and Stiles learn to forgive and forget? Co written by Rhea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Detective Stiles Stilinski sat down at his desk in the Beacon Hills Police Department and waited for his new assignment. He had just closed a case on mysterious killings in Beacon Hills, which was originally thought to be a mountain lion but turned out to be a full blown serial killer desperate to become an alpha, which made absolutely no sense but Stiles wasn’t pushing it. OK so maybe he had tried to pry the information from him as his deputy Vernon turned him over to the FBI , but any logical person would be curious to get inside the mind of a serial killer right? Well maybe not any logical man, but Stiles wouldn’t exactly call himself logical or even intelligent 90% of the time, and the other 10% he was talking to Scott who could make a tree seem logical.

  
The man, Peter Hale, was currently serving a life sentence at a mental hospital in Chicago thanks to Stiles input about the guy. No one could actually say the Peter Hale wasn’t insane if they sat down with him for five minutes. Talking about Alpha werewolves and killing his own niece, only a crazy person would talk about that kind of stuff! At the end of the day Stiles knew it was his testimony that put the guy in a mental hospital as opposed to a regular jail, but no one in Beacon Hills seemed too upset about that fact. If Stiles was honest with himself he felt guilty about the way it went down, however Stiles would never have to deal with that case again and he was only doing his job.

Stiles had wrapped the case up in just under a month which seemed to impress all of Beacon Hills and Stiles himself couldn’t deny how proud he was. The only other time Stiles could remember being this pleased with himself was when he made first line on the lacrosse team back in his sophomore year of high school. Everywhere he went thankful parents gave him baskets of cookies and pies, and his co workers seemed to gush around him, wanting to know how he did it and telling him how brave he is. Stiles didn’t know how long this sense of heroism was going to last and he intended to drag it out as long as he could. Stiles knew it had to die down eventually but he wasn’t ready to give up the free desserts and glory just yet.

Even Lydia Martin, the police chief and long time crush of Stiles, had congratulated him on the victory. Of course Lydia’s way of showing her appreciation was to actually acknowledge Stiles presence at the office instead of her usual tactic of ignoring him, but beggars can’t be choosers. After all it wasn’t like Stiles expected anything to come from his constant pining over Lydia. It helped that Stiles had recently discovered his sexuality to be slightly more interested in the male gender. Now rejection from the queen bee that was Lydia Martin was more like stubbing his toe compared to the punch in the gut that it felt like back in high school.

Stiles was suddenly jolted back to reality when a stack of papers, that seemed to reach the ceiling, hit his desk. He glanced up to see two large brown eyes resembling those of a new born puppy looking down at him in a pleading gesture. Stiles instantly knew he was screwed. His partner and long time best friend Scott was clearly looking for help with his case reports, which he no doubt put off until the last possible minute. Stiles really did love Scott but sometimes his intelligence level went lower than even Stiles could comprehend and that is saying something because Stiles has done some pretty stupid stuff in his 23 years of life. “Hey partner,” Scott offered with those puppy dog eyes seeming browner than ever. “You think you could help me do these case reports?”

“You know Scott, sometimes I like to think that as your best friend since birth I’ve steered you in the right direction but then this happens,” Stiles teased while gesturing to the mountainous stack. “When are they due by?” Scott’s mouth turned into a full blown grin as Stiles agreed to help him.

“Would you kill me if I told you tomorrow?” Scott shrugged slightly.

“Well I would kill you, but then who would help me do all these case reports?” Stiles joked matching Scott’s seriously huge grin. “Let’s get started,” Stiles motioned to the large stack of case reports as Scott pulled up a chair and grabbed two cups of soon to be empty coffee cups.

“BOLINSKI,” Officer Finstock yelled right in Stiles’ ear practically giving him a heart attack as he fell from his soft chair to the cold, hard ground. “Time to wake up cupcake. You’re needed by Sherriff Martin.” Stiles groaned low in his throat and sluggishly made his way from the ground back to his comfortable chair. He had spent hours doing case reports with Scott, which weren’t even finished. Scott must have went home sometime after Stiles fell asleep because his chair was empty and coffee cups disposed of. Stiles bitterly thought of Scott snug at home in his bed for one brief second before getting up and cleaning up the inevitable drool that pooled across his mouth and shirt.

After Stiles had cleaned himself up enough to look semi presentable, he lethargically made his way up the steps to the sheriff’s office. Stiles knocked on the door as Lydia not so kindly and not so privately reminded him to do the last time he had been called to her office. She motioned for him to enter and he entered the lion’s den with caution attempting to look more capable than his normal self. “Sit,” Lydia commanded. Stiles sat in the wheelie chair to his right and eagerly did a spin like he was a child in a grown up chair, which he so was not. “Now Stiles some other detectives and I have gotten together to talk about your progress here at Beacon Hills Police Station and we believe you have been doing a not so horrible job with your last few cases.

Stiles almost thought he heard a compliment in there and counted it as a win. We have decided that you will be the one to take on a new and very…,” Lydia paused for a second as though trying to come up with the right word to describe the case “…experimental case.”

“Does it involve the spilling of my bodily fluids or possible near death experiences because I kind of like where my bodily fluids are right now, you know, in my body that is,” Stiles blabbered. Lydia let out a tiny sigh that could be perceived as a giggle if heard through Stiles’ ears.

“No Stiles your bodily fluids will not be spilled… well unless you do something really stupid like piss the guy off,” Lydia teased with a little smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Piss who off? Wait who am I pissing off? Or not pissing off I guess? What kind of case is this?” Stiles squeaked.

“Derek Hale who has spent the last 6 months in prison will be staying with you for a little while until the court sees him fit to live on his own again. It’s sort of like parole but instead of some big butch cop we thought it would be best to give our new leading detective the case,” Lydia said in an almost too polite tone like she knew Stiles wasn’t going to agree to this from the minute he stepped in to her office.

Derek Hale Stiles repeated over and over in his mind. Hale, Stiles thought that name sounded familiar when suddenly it hit him. Oh crap. Hale as in Peter Hale, as in the guy Stiles just put in a mental hospital for murdering innocent teenagers. Hale as in Derek’s family, for all Stiles knows peter could have been his dad. Can a guy even forgive someone who put their dad in a mental hospital until he died? Stiles isn’t sure but he’s guessing the likelihood of Derek not ripping his throat out is zero. Lydia could find some other detective or officer like Finstock to take this case because no way was Stiles doing this. Stiles wasted no time in voicing his thoughts because he wasn’t doing this and nothing she could say would make him agree to this suicide mission.

“Lydia-“Stiles began but was cut off harshly.

“-Ms. Martin, detective” Lydia ordered trying to sound more like his boss than he had ever heard her sound.

“Ms. Martin,” Stiles began again. There is no way I can take this case,” Stiles stated trying to sound level and reasonable. “You realize I just put this man’s dad in jail for manslaughter right? I don’t exactly think that screams best friends forever. Besides don’t you think one of the newer officers like Finstock would like a chance to prove themselves to the force? I mean I already had my 15 minutes of fame and I’m good. In fact I’m so good. I’m great even, yeah great. No I’m perfect,” Stiles rambled on hoping to make her see reason.

“Stiles, if this case is successful Beacon Hills Police Department will be recognized by the state. Imagine the funding we would get for such a success. Stiles we need the money. Beacon Hill’s can only afford to keep so many officers on the force and the next step is to fire people. Do you really want to see people get fired and know you could have stopped it Stiles?” Lydia questioned raising one eyebrow for emphasis.

“Dammit,” Stiles whispered. He couldn’t watch people lose their jobs and Lydia knew it. Stiles had always had a natural urge to protect people and Lydia knew that too. She also knew that no other guy on the force had just closed a big case and is willing to do something this suicidal to save the force. She was too clever to be outwitted and Stiles knew what he had to do, even if it meant getting his throat ripped out. “Well played Ms. Martin,” Stiles bitterly stated sounding like an old drunk whose favorite football team just lost the super bowl. “When does operation avoid getting my throat ripped out commence?” Stiles questioned almost too afraid to know.

“Tomorrow morning. You will pick up Mr. Hale at California State Penitentiary at 8 AM sharp,” Lydia snickered and took a bite from a cookie that looked too sweet to be eaten by such a devious but beautiful demon.

“Penitentiary as in high class security prison with barbed wire and swat teams at every exit? Stiles squeaked higher than he thought possible.

“Yes Stiles, but don’t worry, Lydia said with an almost caring tone to her voice. “It says on his chart he was only in there for 3rd degree murder, and his lawyer argued it was self defense. Apparently some bitch, last name Argent, tried to burn his house down in the fall. He caught her in the act and took a shovel to her head when she pulled a knife on him. Besides, the judge promised me he’s harmless so stop shaking.” Stiles hadn’t even realized he was shaking until Lydia had not so kindly pointed it out. Stiles abruptly stopped the shivers that coursed through his body and tried his best to look semi professional. If he was going to die, he didn’t want Lydia thinking he was a wimp.

“Ok I’ll be there, but if I die it better be a damn good funeral, with parades and a marching band,” Stiles tried to sound teasing but it came out more stuttery and nervous than teasing. Lydia just gave him and are you serious look and told him he could leave now. Stiles shakily got up and stumbled toward the door as if he were drunk.

“Oh and Stiles one more thing,” Lydia snickered as Stiles turned back around and gave her a skeptical look “Peter Hale was Derek’s uncle not his dad. Good luck,” marveled Lydia who seemed almost overjoyed with the whole situation. Great Stiles thought as he exited her office and slowly made his way down the steps, miraculously not tripping. At least Stiles hadn’t locked up Derek’s father, just the next best thing.

Stiles made his way back down to his desk letting it all sink in. Tomorrow Stiles was going to die, probably a slow and painful death too. He sighed louder than necessary as he sank into his chair for another nap, possibly his last. Derek Hale was going to be the end of his existence, literally.


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning Stiles was brutally awakened by the demon spawn that he called an alarm clock. It wouldn’t have been as unpleasant if the obnoxious wolf sounds, which were the only thing that could wake him up, had begun at 8 o’clock like usual instead of 6. Unfortunately today wasn’t going to be a normal day, and at 8 o’clock he wouldn’t be rolling out of bed and making his favorite coffee while lazily getting ready for work. Stiles gave a frustrated sigh at the thought and angrily reached his nightstand to stop the relentless howls coming from his alarm clock.

Stiles hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, but right now he felt more awake than ever. Stiles tried and failed for a whole ten seconds not to think about the possibly dangerous- no definitely dangerous- and possibly revenge seeking ex convict that would be moving into Stiles’ house in two hours. Stiles moaned and rolled over onto his stomach getting that awful sinking feeling that pooled low in his gut. It felt as though something inside of him was trying to claw its way out as brutally as possible, and he could tell it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Not ready to get up yet, Stiles stayed like this for a few more minutes before dragging himself up and out of bed. He sat on the end of his bed wondering what to wear. Lydia never said he had to wear a suit like he does to work, but if he showed up in shorts and a tee shirt it might make him look like easy prey, which Stiles was most certainly not, right? No, Stiles was a detective and he was going to show Derek Hale he meant business, so he decided on the suit with a golden tie, which coincidentally matched his light brown eyes.

After deciding on his outfit, Stiles lethargically made his way to the shower. The shower was ice cold but Stiles barely noticed because he was dreading the day to come. He seriously considered not going and letting Lydia fire the whole staff, himself included, however Stiles knew he didn’t have the guts to do that. He hastily turned off the shower and snatched a towel from the rack to his left and went to the mirror. Wiping away the fog, Stiles saw the small frown in replace of his usual goofy grin. Stiles stood there for a moment trying to think of the positive. Hey maybe Derek would forgive him for putting his uncle -not his dad- Stiles reminded himself- in a mental hospital and maybe Derek would actually be a nice guy who really did kill that girl in self-defense. Stiles let out a small puff of laughter because there was just no way that was happening. Well at least Stiles got a laugh out of his possible approaching death.

Stiles then finished drying off and put on the suit and tie he picked out. He looked at his lanky frame in the mirror grabbed his phone, wallet, and after careful consideration, his gun. Stiles sat down at his small table in the kitchen and made himself a bowl of Lucky Charms, which was most definitely not a child’s cereal and anyone who disagreed with him was wrong. Stiles also grabbed a cup of coffee filled with sugar and milk because he couldn’t function without it. Gulping the bowl down in a rush, Stiles glanced at the clock and realized he was running late and he didn’t even print out directions to the place. Stiles fled to his computer and quickly printed the directions because it wasn’t everyday he went to the California State Penitentiary. After grabbing the directions, he glanced once more at the clock and realized it was already 7:15 and the directions said it was going to take him at least an hour to get there without traffic. Oh crap. The guy hadn’t even gotten here yet and Stiles was already going to do something wrong by being late. If the guy didn’t hate him for putting his uncle away, he was going to hate him for being late to pick him up.Brushing the thought from his mind, Stiles double checked he had everything and gave one last glance to his house because Stiles had a feeling this was going to be the last time he felt peaceful in his own home for awhile.  
________________________________________

“Can I help you?” demanded a tall and buff looking man at the front desk of the penitentiary. He had short brown hair and was easily more than 6 feet tall. Stiles noticed he wore a blue officer suit just like Finstock and some of the other officers in Beacon Hills; however he seemed to give off more of a threatening vibe which he guessed was more important when dealing with convicts rather than drunken 19 year olds in Beacon Hills. His badge read Jackson Whittemore.

Stiles wouldn’t admit that Jackson scared him because he had too much manly pride for that, but the guy was definitely not someone Stiles would want to get into a fight with. Oh God Stiles thought, if this is what the guards look like, imagine what the prisoners look like. An assortment of creepy faces ran through Stiles’ brain. What if he had a beard and creepy smile, or one eyeball? He could only colorfully imagine what sort of creepy features the guy had. A guy who most likely wants to rip Stiles’ throat out. Stiles swallowed loudly and tried to regain control of his body that suddenly felt lightheaded.

“Hi, I’m Detective Stilinski and I’m supposed to be picking someone up,” Stiles said trying to sound authoritative but came off more as a little kid trying to talk to a grown up.

The man gave Stiles a once over and then laughed out, “I’m sure you are.”

Stiles took a few quick seconds to determine what the man meant exactly and then it hit him. “Oh no I’m not here to visit … I’m not, you know. I like women, tall ones with strawberry blond hair,” Stiles managed to sputter out while blushing harder than he thought he could. Maybe Stiles wasn’t being completely honest but he couldn’t exactly admit to liking men as much as women in a prison full of men who could be potential rapists. Even if they were locked behind bars, they were going to get out someday and Stiles didn’t really want a gang of rapists looking for him. Stiles heart sped up to an uncontrollable pace just thinking about it. What if Derek Hale was a rapist on top of being a murderer and Lydia hadn’t told him. Stiles tried to calm down as he made a silent vow to get this guys records from Lydia ASAP.

“Yeah anyway,” the guy said raising an eyebrow and looking at Stiles like he was seriously messed up. “Sorry it doesn’t work like that.” Clearly he didn’t understand or maybe this whole thing was a joke and Lydia just wanted him out of the office for a day. Stiles had almost convinced himself the whole thing had been some wild dream when a slender and elegant-looking woman interrupted them.

“Hi, I’m Allison and you must be Detective Stilinski,” said the girl forming a huge grin with glistening white teeth.

“Um, ya that’s me. Well most people just call me Stiles. How exactly do you know my name?” Stiles asked a little bit on edge since he was after all in a jail and had no idea who this girl was. He had been raised by a police chief and it was in his blood to be suspicious.

“Detective Martin called me to make the arrangements for Derek Hale’s parole,” she explained easily.

“Well hopefully she told you more than me because I don’t even know if – I mean where – I should find this guy,” Stiles stumbled over his words trying to make her understand what he meant. Allison started to giggle as Jackson, who was standing next to her looking annoyed, rolled his eyes and walked away. Allison gracefully filled the seat Jackson had been standing in front of while trying to get her laughter under control.

“It’s okay, detective. First time being a parole officer?” she asked her voice fused with concern.

“Yeah, well kind of. I’ve watched people like this before but only for a few hours in a jail cell at the station. None of them had to live in my home for an indefinite amount of time. I mean I’m not nervous or anything. Sure I’m a detective and not a parole officer and I did put the guy’s uncle in jail but no worries. Who’s worried, no, not Stiles. I’m sure we’ll get along just great, in fact maybe we can make s'mores because who doesn’t love s’mores? They’re God’s gift to the world filled with marshmallow-y centers,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. He could feel his face getting hot again and opened his mouth to prove he wasn’t as crazy as he sounded.

However as soon as Stiles tried to speak again Allison cut him off with her own words, which were short, sweet, and did nothing to ease Stiles’ nerves. “Derek Hale doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would like s’mores.” Stiles groaned softly because that was not reassuring. Allison however must have found the whole thing quite amusing if her giggling was anything to go by. “Stiles,” Allison whispered “don’t worry. Derek Hale has more bark than bite. I’ve been around him long enough to know that as long as you don’t do anything to piss him off, he shouldn’t be a problem.” After her pep talk, Allison got up from the seat where Jackson had previously sat in and started leading Stiles out of the entrance area.

“See that’s what everyone keeps telling me but what do you mean piss him off? Are we talking like steal the guy’s s’mores or punch him in the face?” Stiles questioned as Allison led him down a long hallway with some break rooms for the guards. She stopped at the third door on the right which seemed to be empty except for a soda machine and a few tables.

“I just mean stay out of his way and don’t talk too much and you two should be pals before you know it,” Allison patted him on the back trying to be reassure him but Stiles merely flailed at her touch. “This is one of our old break rooms. No one uses it anymore, so no one should bother you in here. I’m going to get Derek and take him through the discharge process. It should take about 20 minutes. I’ll bring him back here and you’ll be all set to go,” Allison spoke softly to Stiles trying to soothe his nerves. He could tell by her confident voice that this wasn’t the first time she had helped calm someone down. Stiles worked hard to slow his heart rate and gave her a small smile. He had the odd thought that that Allison would be perfect for his partner Scott, because they were both warm smiles and innocence.

“Ok, go ahead. I’ll be here just, staying cool. Cool as a cucumber actually,” Stiles joked as a small smile spread across his face. With those words Allison left the room and told Stiles to help himself to any food and drinks he wanted.  
________________________________________

15 minutes had passed since Allison had left the room and Stiles was surprised he hadn’t bolted for the exit yet. He had thought about it, twice in fact, but he had to do this for Beacon Hills and for the force. His dad, the retired police chief, would have been proud to know what Stiles was doing and that thought alone made Stiles stay in the room.  
...

3 more minutes passed making it 18 minutes since Allison had left the room and the seconds passed like hours but minutes passed like seconds. Soon enough Allison would bring Derek Hale to his new parole officer. The words tasted funny in Stiles’ mouth. He had never thought he could be a parole officer even though he had been a cop for two years before becoming a detective. Being a parole officer was different. Parole officers were supposed to be buff and always in control and scary like Jackson. Stiles wasn’t scary and he wasn’t buff. The only thing Stiles had going for him was the fact that he could talk himself out of most situations, and his gun. He had only shot one thing before and it hadn’t even human, it was a wolf Stiles and Scott had found lurking in the woods. Hopefully there would be no need for a gun; honestly the guy couldn’t be that bad.  
Stiles kept repeating that last thought in his brain over and over until his head started to hurt. Stiles was about to put his head down when he heard the door creak open and suddenly he felt more awake than he had woken up.

In walked Allison Argent and who Stiles could only assume was none other than Derek Hale. And oh my God. Derek Hale had to be the most attractive person to walk on the planet. Even Lydia’s strawberry blond hair and red lip gloss was nothing compared to Derek’s well defined jaw line and ripped muscles. He looked as though the Greek gods had sculpted him themselves. He had to be at least 6 feet 2 inches, which made him tower slightly over Stiles since he was two inches taller him. His black hair pushed away from his head in all different directions, but he still managed to make it look like it was supposed to be like that. Derek wore dark blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt which clung to his chest showing off his abs and glorious arms.

Stiles had to stop himself from drooling and wow he really had to stop staring. As soon as Stiles could tear his eyes away from Derek’s torso he looked up to Allison who was staring down at Stiles and waiting for a reaction. Stiles really didn’t have any practice with this at all, so he simply stood up and walked closer to where Allison and Derek ‘too attractive to be real’ Hale stood staring awkwardly at the ground. Stiles made sure to keep some space in between himself and Derek just in case he decided to wait until they were back at Stiles’ house to kill him. Why not just kill him here? This way Derek didn’t even have to sent back because he was already here, and surely there would be less paperwork this way Stiles thought sarcastically, but also a little afraid that could be true, to move any closer.

“Detective Stilinski, this is Derek Hale. Derek, this is your new parole officer Detective Stilinski,” said Allison sounding very official. Derek didn’t move at all. He didn’t even spare Stiles a glance. He seemed to be very interested in what the carpet was made of, since his eyes were glued to it. In another situation Stiles would attempt to make awkward conversation but like Allison had said, Stiles didn’t want to piss Derek off. Stiles really wasn’t sure what to do so he just gave Derek an uncharacteristically curt nod and looked to Allison for help. “Okay, well Derek has been discharged and all the necessary paperwork filled out. You’ll just have to sign him out at the front desk.” Stiles wasn’t ready to be alone with Derek yet, but not because he was afraid but because he didn’t know what to say to him, or so he kept telling himself.

Stiles being the coward that he is, gave Allison his best imitation of Scott’s puppy dog eyes, hoping she would understand. Luckily she seemed to have caught on and told Derek she would be escorting him to the car for security purposes. Stiles gave a silent thank you to the gods and Allison as she, Derek, and Stiles exited the room.  
He was in way over his head.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the fic! Feel free to leave comments or message me at tv-show-junkie.tumblr.com or message my co writer at invicaanimi.tumblr.com

Allison escorted Derek and Stiles back down the long hallway and into the main entrance area. As the three passed by everyone looked up and stared at Derek, not with hate or anger, but with an outright display of fear. Even Jackson looked at the guy as if he was both crazy and some powerful force to be afraid of. Jackson’s eyes locked momentary with Stiles’ whispering a silent warning of ‘be careful’ and ‘you’re screwed’ at the same time, before returning to his paperwork. Some of the other guards didn’t even look at Derek, but you could tell by their sullen faces that they knew he was there. Great, Stiles thought, the one time everyone is paying any attention to him is because he’s escorting a murderer to his car. Stiles and Allison exchanged a small glance in which Allison conveyed that this was normal behavior and motioned him to keep walking and Stiles conveyed the same fear that was circulating around the room.

As surreal as all of it was, the oddest thing was that Derek didn’t even seem to notice and if he did notice, he didn’t care. He just continued to stare at the ground as if the carpet held the key to all the answers in life. Stiles was beginning to realize why someone would want to piss Derek Hale off. All he did was stare at the carpet like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and for some reason that was beginning to piss the hell out of Stiles. Maybe Derek Hale was as crazy as his uncle.  
Allison led the way out into the parking lot, stopping a few feet in front of the guards that stood outside the penitentiary. The guards exchanged an almost confused look before both turning to give Stiles a small nervous smile as if they were wishing him luck. Stiles wasn’t sure if that look was supposed to reassure him but it only made him more aware of the fact that Allison was going to have to leave now, and he was going to be alone with Derek. Derek who might want to kill him, or was a psychopath like his uncle. Either way Stiles was definitely screwed. As if that wasn’t enough to rattle anyone, there was also the fact that Derek could also be a rapist on top of being a murderer. This day just keeps getting better and better, Stiles thought sarcastically.

Stiles hadn’t noticed how long the three had been standing there – Derek now admiring the cars in the parking lot – until Allison cleared her throat loudly. He looked up at her to meet her brown eyes which didn’t look frightened at all but actually concerned. Stiles wondered how such an innocent person could be a prison guard, but he guessed maybe she just withheld her inner badass. “Well Detective if there is nothing else you need, I should be heading back to my post. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Allison smiled as she reached her hand out for Stiles to shake.

He took it and shook firmly as he replied, “Nice meeting you too Allison, and thank you.” As they shook hands Stiles felt something rectangular hit his palm and looked it over quickly before putting it into the pocket of his suit. It had Allison’s name written across the top along with the name of the penitentiary and her phone number. On the back in big swirly handwriting Stiles read:

Call me if there are any problems. And try not to piss the guy off unless you call me for backup first.  
-Allison Argent

Stiles wasn’t sure whether he should be offended that Allison thought that he needed her to defend him, or be thankful that she was kind enough to offer her help. Either way he smiled at her as she turned and walked away, back inside the penitentiary. Stiles turned back and not so subtly looked at Derek, who had moved on from staring at the cars and was now looking up at the blue sky. The same scowl Derek had worn from inside looked permanently stuck on his face. Stiles belatedly realized that this was probably the first time Derek has been outside without a barbed wire fence surrounding him in quite some time.

Stiles had the sudden urge to let Derek leave. He could get on a bus and never look back, and he would too if Stiles let him, but Stiles wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that and mentally scolded himself for even thinking about it. Sure Stiles had broken a lot of rules for Scott – and himself – over the years, but none of them, well most of them, wouldn’t have resulted in prison time if he had been caught. Something about Derek just looked so – not sad exactly – but like he seriously could use a long hug. Stiles pushed that thought away from his mind only slightly worried that Derek could actually hear his thoughts like he seemed to inside. Stiles could already tell this new living arrangement was going to be as much fun as poking his eyes out with sticks.

Stiles only noticed how long he had been staring at Derek when he broke his never ending staring contest with the sky and turned his head to outright glare at Stiles. He lookeda lot scarier when his light green -almost hazel- eyes were staring with what looked to be contempt. Stiles remembered what Allison said about Derek being more bark than bite and he sincerely hoped she hadn’t been joking.

He realized that he should probably say something considering Derek was going to be living with him indefinitely and Stiles wasn’t really the type to communicate using silent hand gestures and occasional nods. “Hi, I’m Detective Stilinski and I guess I’ll be keeping you for a while. Well not actually keeping you, you’ll just be staying with me. Not with me, with me, but in my house,” Derek gave no indication of even hearing what Stiles had said except for raising one eyebrow in silent amusement. “I’m just going to stop talking now,” Stiles tried but Derek’s facial expression didn’t seem to change.

Oh God, Derek probably thinks he’s some sort of creep. With a small sigh, he realized Derek wasn’t going to respond but was perfectly content with glaring at Stiles like he was some sort of idiot, and in Derek’s mind he probably was. “So,” Stiles said awkwardly fumbling for words “My car is this way,” Stiles pointed in the direction of the parking lot. “I guess we should leave now, since you’ve probably spent enough time here. Um, I mean I’m sure you’re eager to be going home. Well my home, um, we should go,” Stiles explained hoping Derek would understand what he meant.

Derek just raised his eyebrow once more and stared out into the parking lot. Stiles realized he should probably just lead the way considering Derek wouldn’t know which car was his, and if he did that would be kind of creepy. Well actually very creepy. So creepy that Stiles would probably just abandon his car altogether and leave the state and maybe country, maybe.

No that’s ridiculous, Stiles reassured himself and he started walking hoping Derek would follow. Luckily after a quick and hopefully subtle glance back, Stiles was surprised to find that Derek was in fact following him. Stiles counted that as a win and did a miniscule fist pump, but was interrupted by the thought that he forgot where he parked his own damn car. He glanced out at the parking lot trying desperately to look like he knew what he was doing.

Derek seemed to notice what Stiles was doing and rolled his eyes, quite dramatically Stiles might add. “What type of car do you have,” Derek sighed loudly.

“Uh,” Stiles grasped for an answer. He would have been offended if he wasn’t so shocked that Derek had actually talked. Stiles was beginning to think this was just going to be one long and really awkward sleepover. “It’s a blue Jeep, but I refer to her as my baby because she is precious,” Stiles responded eagerly. Derek snuck a glance in Stiles direction, making a face that meant that Derek clearly thought Stiles was the crazy which he clearly wasn’t. If anyone was crazy, it was Derek ‘I like to stare at the ground for fun’ Hale and not Stiles. Just as Stiles turned to give Derek a look of his own which said as much, Derek had already started looking over every car in the parking lot in search for Stiles’.  
After a minute or two of looking, Derek started to walk away. Stiles honestly didn’t know what to do. He was Derek’s parole officer – which still sounded weird to Stiles – and he had a feeling that losing the guy on the first day wasn’t a very good start. He started to follow Derek, who moved very quickly, feeling like the owner of a rabid newborn puppy. Derek maneuvered his way through the parking lot skillfully seeking out Stiles’ blue jeep.

Derek took a sharp right turn and suddenly he had vanished from view. Stiles hastily made the same right turn needing to find him. Stiles made the turn only to find more lines of cars and no Derek. Stiles heart started to speed up fearfully as he searched frantically for Derek. Oh no, thought Stiles. He had just lost a convicted murderer, and in the parking lot of a prison of all places. Stiles picked up his pace desperately searching for his car, plan already forming in his mind. 4 years of college and two years of being an officer had not prepared Stiles for this. He cursed the gods silently as he looked for his jeep. If he was going to find Derek he needed a car because Stiles would never catch the guy on foot if he was trying to escape.

After reaching the edge of the parking lot that emerged into woods Stiles turned around hoping – praying – that Derek hadn’t gone into the woods. How could a parking lot be so damn big? Stiles thought distantly. He started to circle back around thinking about calling Allison for help when a flash of blue and white caught his eye. He turned his head to the left to see his baby and a not so happy Derek leaning up against it. Stiles let out a huge sigh of relief. He didn’t know what Lydia would have done to him if he lost the guy within 20 minutes of meeting him, but he imagined it would involve a high school yearbook, embarrassing secrets from that one night he got drunk at the office, and a mandatory meeting in the conference room.

Horrified with that thought, Stiles got closer to the car he realized he didn’t know what to say to Derek, and he was guessing telling him how hot he looked wasn’t a good way to get Derek to warm up to him. Maybe if there was even a slight chance that Derek was gay… but no, not when he looked like that. How had he even managed to lose his car and Derek within 20 minutes of meeting the guy? That had to be a new record. He seriously needed a “Parole Officers for Dummies” book and made a mental note to search Google for one.

Stiles stood in front of his car still fumbling for words and trying not to focus on how attractive Derek looked leaning against his baby. “Did you stop to get food on the way,” Derek remarked, his voice oozing with sincere disposition. Stiles wasn’t sure whether to be happy that Derek seemed to have found his voice or irritated that he seemed to have grown snarkier by the second. He decided to let it slide, after all the guy had just gotten out of jail and deserved to blow off a little steam.

Stiles hopped in the driver’s side of his jeep waiting for Derek to join him. Derek however just stood outside the car looking from door to door, clearly trying to decide where heshould sit. Stiles awkwardly remembered that the last time Derek had been in a car was most likely when the cops had taken him to jail, and he would have been forced to sit in the back seat behind that metal bar separator. Stiles internally debated on making Derek sit in the backseat, internally arguing that Derek could easily knock him out and take the wheel if he was in the passenger seat. However, he didn’t actually think the guy would take too kindly to having to sit in the back of the car like a child either.Sighing for what felt like the millionth time today, Stiles reached over and opened the passenger door adding, “I know it’s been awhile, but doors really aren’t that complicated.” Derek’s head shot up to Stiles’ in surprise but he recovered quickly soon after and disguised his face with another one of those ‘I’m only tolerating you because I have to’ looks and climbed into the passenger seat. Stiles looked out his window trying to hide his small smile and counting that as another win. Feeling a little bit better about the situation, Stiles put his key in the ignition and soon they were on their way.

________________________________________

They had only been in the car for 5 minutes when Stiles started to get unbelievably bored. He laughed quietly thinking about how he could still be bored when he was driving a convicted felon back to his house to live with him. The whole thing still seemed surreal, and scary, still very scary and possibly life threatening.  
After a few more minutes of agonizing silence, Stiles decided to do what he did best, talk. Without really thinking his mouth opened of its own accord and started talking.“So how’s it feel to be a free man?” Stiles winced as soon he finished that particular sentence because he honestly doubted Derek wanted to talk about what it was liking getting out of jail to someone like him who put people like him in jail. Stiles saw Derek’s whole body start to stiffen at the question and unintentionally reached for his gun with the hand farthest away from Derek.

“You don’t have to do that,” Derek met Stiles’ eyes for a brief second sounding weary and tired and not at all afraid. Stiles shot him an ‘I don’t know what you mean’ face, shrugging both his shoulders to look more convincing. Derek obviously seeing right through Stiles’ façade simply said “I’m not going to try to run.” The words shocked Stiles enough to drop the act and put both hands back on the wheel. Derek didn’t say anything else but his whole body seemed to visibly relax as Stiles focused his attention on the road.

The drive home was quiet, the only sound coming from the radio Stiles put on halfway through the drive. As much as Stiles wanted to fill the empty space, he didn’t know what to say. What exactly do you say to someone who just got out of prison? Meet any new friends lately? Stiles decided to stay quiet for once since talking to Derek didn’t seem to be working out. Hey maybe Stiles could take up sign language this way he wouldn’t make such a fool out of himself. Ugh, Stiles thought this was going to be way harder than his last police assignment.


	4. Chapter Four

“Well this is it. Home sweet home,” Stiles grinned just happy to have made it home after almost losing Derek once. Oh God…,Stiles thought, What was he even saying? He made it sound like Derek was a puppy he was bringing home from the pound. A small part of Stiles wished Derek was a puppy; at least than he’d be easier to take care of. Stiles checked his watch and saw that it was around noon and his stomach could testify to that.

Stiles walked into his house, with Derek following close behind. He seemed to be scrutinizing every inch of his house, glancing first at the kitchen on their left and then straight ahead to the small living room with a couch and TV.

Had Derek not recognized Stiles’ initial lack of trust in the car and put Stiles’ fears to rest, he would have suspected Derek was looking for the easiest escape root. Stiles still wasn’t sure whether he should believe Derek because he was still a criminal, but he needed to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even though the guy’s dark, brooding eyes gave nothing away regarding his intentions, be they good or bad, but Stiles still did not want Derek to think of him as the bad guy.

Stiles continued to walk in, throwing open one of his haphazardly organized cabinets to show Derek where the plates and cups were. “So I don’t really know what you like to eat but you can help yourself to anything that’s in the fridge. Later we can go to the store and get you some food. Whatever you want, it’s my treat,” Stiles smiled at Derek who suddenly seemed a lot more interested now that food was involved. As if on cue Derek’s stomach growled loud enough for Stiles, who was standing a few feet away, to hear. His smile grew as Derek gave him an almost apologetic wince. “Geez did they feed you at all?”, Stiles laughed, only realizing a moment too late how insensitive that sounded.  
The smile that was starting to form on Derek’s lips faded as quickly as it had come. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he looked away from Stiles. Stiles had just enough time to register the almost terrified look on Derek’s face, before it was gone.

Derek’s whole demeanor seemed to change in an instant. “Oh they fed us plenty,” he replied, letting out a low laugh as a smile spread through his face once again. This smile was different though, and not in a good way. “Actually I got fed double.”

“Why is that exactly,” Stiles squeaked as he backed up slowly, getting closer to the kitchen counter.

“My cellmate pissed me off, so I ripped his throat out, “Derek paused and he looked like he was done speaking, but then his smile grew even bigger and he added “with my teeth.” He looked almost predatory at this point and Stiles was half a second away from peeing his pants. No amount of training could have prepared him for Derek ‘I ripped my cell mate’s throat out with my teeth for kicks’ Hale.

“Um ok well we have plenty of food here so there will be no need for ripping anyone’s throat out. I actually kind of prefer my throat where it is,” Stiles spoke so fast he wasn’t sure it was even coherent. He squirmed and took one more step back leaning against the counter for support.

Without saying anything further Derek took a few steps forward, closing the space between them. Stiles was nearly pinned against the counter at this point, only a few inches separating him and Derek. Stiles tried to move further away, but just ended up digging his back into the counter. Derek leaned in closer right next to Stiles’ ear and huskily said “So what do you have to eat?” A chill shot through Stiles at the sound of Derek’s voice and suddenly they were way too close. Stiles’ mind was racing with thoughts that really were not appropriate while standing with a convicted murderer, especially one that was now his responsibility; and he seriously doubted the growing problem in his pants was going to make matters better.

Trying to stop his rapidly rising situation, Stiles responded “That’s a really good question. I’m going to go check.” Stiles tried to maneuver his way around Derek somehow hoping he hadn’t noticed Stiles’ problem, but the guy was huge. There must be a pretty good weight lifting program in prison because seriously Derek was a brick wall. “I just,” Stiles pointed to his left where the fridge was. Derek seemed to understand and after another moment he took a few steps back. Stiles briskly walked toward the fridge and opened it and with his back turned to Derek he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He allowed himself a full thirty seconds to get himself back under control while he pretended to be picking something out from the miniscule amount of food he had. Putting on his serious face-similar to the one is dad used to use when Stiles did something stupid-he turned back around to face Derek.

Derek had moved behind Stiles, pretending to be picking something out of the fridge and smirking. Stiles couldn’t tell if Derek had noticed his obvious boner but Derek’s smirk seemed to say loud and clear that he had figured it out. The guy was full on smirking at Stiles like he was pleased that he had just made Stiles squirm. Suddenly Derek was sliding next to Stiles and reaching into the lacking fridge and pulling out a frozen meat lover’s pizza. He turned to Stiles in silent question, arching an eyebrow. “Good choice,” Stiles said offering a smile. “By the sound of your stomach I don’t know if you can wait, but it’s going to take 15-20 minutes,” Stiles joked.

All Derek said in response was “I can wait,” and Stiles wasn’t going to argue. He put the pizza in the oven and turned it on high praying the pizza would cook faster so they could have something to do besides stand in complete utter silence. Stiles seriously considered trading in his criminal for a more talkative one because Derek had to be the least talkative person he knew. Granted most of Stiles’ friends were very outspoken like Scott or Lydia, but that isn’t the point right now. The point is that he is standing in his kitchen with Derek Hale, convicted murderer, in the most uncomfortable silence he’s ever been in. Not to mention he was fidgeting like a child who has just told a lie to his parents. He started pacing trying to expel some of the pent up energy.

“So,” Stiles said trying to make the waiting more bearable. “It’s not very big but I’ve got a guest room,” Stiles mentioned for a lack of something better to say. “I can show you it now if you’re not busy,” Stiles blurted realizing that of course Derek wasn’t busy. Trying to redeem himself Stiles sassed “Uh, I mean if you would prefer to stay here and stare at the wall or maybe the ground –“

“No,” Derek snarled looking thoroughly pissed off “We can go see it. And for the record at least I don’t look like the crazy one.” Stiles stopped pacing and looked at Derek giving him one of his ‘that hurts’ faces, which normally consisted of an open mouth, a hand spread across his chest, and his eyebrows raised in fake hurt.

“Sure I’m the crazy one,” Stiles retorted without thinking. The words had left his mouth before he even had a chance to think and for a moment, Stiles thought he had gone too far. However, it was a mere ten second wait of agonizing anxiety before he saw Derek’s mouth twitch up in an almost smile. Smirking inwardly to himself, Stiles decided he would count that as yet another win.

Stiles led the way to the bedroom, which wasn’t too far considering the size of his apartment. Opening the door on his right Stiles walked into the tiny space. He figured Derek wouldn’t mind the small room considering his previous living space. Derek walked in right behind Stiles; his seemingly perpetual scowl remained unchanging.

“So this is it. It’s not much but at least you have a view,” Stiles joked as he pointed to the window with closed shades. Derek tilted his head slightly and walked towards the window, opening the shades to reveal a brick wall and an alley with a green dumpster and a swarm of flies.

Derek let out a huff of breath that Stiles could only interpret as a laugh. After another moment of scanning the ally, Derek closed the blinds and went to sit down on the bed. Noticing that the bed was completely bare of sheets, Stiles rushed to the closet, rambling the whole way, “Oh I guess I forgot to put sheets on the bed. I’ll just-”

“No I can do it.,” Derek said more harshly than necessary, cutting off the constant flow of words from Stiles’ mouth. Seeing Stiles’ startled and slightly hurt expression, Derek let out a sigh and seemed to deflate a little. “In prison we …” Derek trailed off but the intended ending was clear enough. Stiles looked down at the ground awkwardly not knowing what to say. It wasn’t everyday that Stiles had to deal with an ex prisoner with communication issues and a troubled past.

Not knowing what to say, or if he should say anything, Stiles just nodded his head in response and mumbled, “So I’m just going to let you… uh… do whatever it is you do and go check on lunch,” Stiles softly placed the sheets on the ground and backed out of the room. Derek didn’t seem to notice – or care – that Stiles was leaving as he got up to grab the sheets that lay crumpled on the ground. Stiles hesitated at the edge of the room, hand on the door knob. He contemplated closing the door, still cautious with Derek after what he had named ‘the parking lot incident.’ Finally deciding that if he ever wanted Derek to trust him, he would have to learn to trust Derek, Stiles set his mouth in a firm line, and stepped into the hallway. He grasped the knob and closed the door.

Stiles went into the kitchen and started pacing again. It took him all of 5 minutes before thoughts came flooding in. It wasn’t like he was worried about Derek running. He said he wasn’t going to run and Stiles had no reason not to believe him, besides the fact that he is a convicted murderer the ever irritating voice of reason in the back of his mind argued. Stiles started walking back toward Derek’s room, convincing himself that he just wanted to make sure the sheets were put on right because if they were put on wrong they weren’t comfortable and would fall off. Thoroughly convinced he was doing the right thing Stiles approached Derek’s door.

Stiles lifted his hand to knock when the door abruptly flew open, revealing what looked like a very pissed off Derek. He glowered at Stiles probably hoping to scare him away with his menacing green eyes and ridiculously chiseled jaw line. Stiles thought about backing down, thinking back to what Allison and Lydia had said, but Stiles never was good at following directions. Wordlessly, Stiles and Derek locked eyes for a moment fighting for dominance. Stiles heart was racing as he realized he didn’t actually have anything to say to Derek, who seemed to notice that too and raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Do you need something,” Derek asked mimicking an innocent voice.

“I, uh,” Stiles fumbled. “Wanted to make sure the sheets were ok because you know if they’re put on wrong they fall off and make a mess. Who wants messy sheets? Not Stiles. Nope. I mean it’s not like we’ll be sleeping in the same bed. I’ve got my own room across from yours, so we won’t um need to share but uh,” Stiles babbled and tried not to look away from Derek’s harsh gaze. He couldn’t believe he had just talked about sharing a bed with Derek Hale. Derek seemed to think the whole thing was very amusing if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. He was looking at Stiles with a mix of amusement and a hint of confusion.

The confusion meant one of two things; either Derek didn’t understand a word of Stiles’ gibberish or he had caught Stiles using his nickname. It wasn’t like Stiles was trying to hide his nickname from Derek, but he had wanted to keep things semi professional; well as professional as living with a parole officer could be for a criminal. Just as Stiles was about to say something about it the kitchen timer went off and brought them both out their thoughts. Stiles jumped noticeable as the timer broke silent staring contest that seemed to be happening. A smile spread across Derek’s face at Stiles’ reaction as he leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart and huskily whispered, “Aren’t you going to go get that… Stiles?”

Stiles nodded frantically, not quite trusting himself to respond. He turned away from Derek and started toward the kitchen as Derek followed closer than strictly necessary. Once in the kitchen Stiles grabbed the pizza from the oven and turned around to grab a plate and nearly collided with the brick wall that is Derek Hale. “Oh God,” Stiles squealed. “Personal space just isn’t in your repertoire is it?” Stiles half joked even though he was scared of the answer. “No forget it I don’t want to know the answer to that,” Stiles quickly backpedaled as Derek opened his mouth to respond with something that would undoubtedly once again leave Stiles scrambling to remember how to form sentences.  
Derek closed his mouth and smirked, but started to back up. “That’s right,” Stiles began “If I’m harboring your fugitive ass it’s my house, my rules buddy.” Obviously responding well to a confident assertion of dominance, Derek nodded his head and gave Stiles his space. Stiles smiled triumphantly, but tried not to make eye contact, as Derek’s stormy green eyes were still as menacing as always.

Stiles turned his attention back to the pizza, cutting it into 8 slices. After cutting the pizza Stiles placed it on the table and noticed Derek standing, hands in his pockets, looking oddly uncomfortable for the first time since they got home. Stiles felt a twinge of sympathy for the guy. After all, he had just been in prison and now he had been whisked away to some cop’s house who he has never met before and for all he knew, hated him. But Stiles didn’t hate Derek.  
Trying to ease the tension Stiles laughed, “If I wanted someone who was going to stand around, eat all my food and judgmentally stare at my house I would have invited my dad over,” he said teasingly. “Do you think you can manage to grab drinks from the fridge,” Stiles said, with a drop of sarcasm. Derek scowled but went to the fridge and pulled out two cans of Coke.

He brought them back to the table and set them down, again looking out of place. Stiles stomach let out a loud growl telling him it was definitely time for dinner. He grabbed the plates and sat down noticing that Derek was still standing. “Dude I’m not going to bite,” Stiles laughed while grabbing a piece of the meaty pizza.

“I like standing,” was all Derek said.

Stiles threw Derek a skeptical look, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort and continued eating. Derek, obviously not caring what Stiles thought, grabbed a slice and continuedstanding. Stiles continued to eat his pizza while Derek stood on the opposite side of the table thoroughly enjoying the meal. Stiles could tell Derek was doing his best to eat slowly, but it was clearly an effort to do so. After practically inhaling a slice Derek picked up his coke and greedily drank it. A pang of guilt hit Stiles because he was the reason Derek had been living off of crappy prison food for longer than what should be legal. To Stiles, coke and pizza were not luxuries but necessities. Stiles reminded himself that he was not the sole reason Derek was deprived, but he worked with the people that put Derek Hale and others like him in prison. And for a moment, watching Derek stand in his kitchen eating pizza, it was easy to forget why.

Shaking himself out of that train of thought, Stiles put down his pizza, suddenly losing his appetite. Standing up awkwardly he excused himself, “I’m actually not feeling so hungry anymore, so I’m going to take a shower,” Stiles used his thumb to point in the direction of his bedroom “and you just keep…,” Stiles motioned with his hands for Derek to keep eating. Derek gave a little nod in Stiles direction and moved on to what had to be his third piece.

Stiles walked through his living room and into his bedroom, glancing back at Derek. Derek had abandoned his standing position and was now lounging in the chair next to where Stiles had been sitting. Stiles observed how comfortable Derek looked now that he was gone. Stiles wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted by Derek’s immediate and obvious ease in response to Stiles’ absence, but what he was sure of was that he wanted Derek to trust him. He couldn’t explain why but Derek wasn’t just another criminal; he was someone Stiles wanted to shelter and that, well that was just scary. Stiles had never felt this attached to anyone before and the guy didn’t even like him.

Stiles went into his bathroom, with all these thoughts racing through his head. He turned on the shower, making a vow to himself. He was going to get Derek to trust him.


	5. Chapter Five

Stiles turned the shower off and swiped a towel from the rack. He stole a quick glance at the clock, cursing under his breath when he realized he had been hiding in the shower for a solid half an hour. Hiding, he thought to himself, is that what I was doing? Hiding? There was no point in lying to himself anymore and he knew it. Stiles had surrendered to the solitary sanctuary of his bathroom for no reason other than to escape the stormy green eyes and unwavering scowl that constantly adorned the face of the fugitive currently occupying his kitchen. On second thought, he wouldn't be shocked in the slightest if Derek had taken the time to make a likewise hasty escape, but with ulterior motives.  
As Stiles toweled himself dry he allowed his thoughts to run free without the fear of yet another horrifically stupid sentence to make its way out of his mouth. It was incredibly strange, he realized, part of him yearned to be free of Derek’s overall threatening persona, but another part of him just wanted to get Derek to trust him, to protect him even. Stiles cringed at the thought reminding himself of his earlier resolution to loosen the reins on Derek a little bit, otherwise there was no way he was going to get Derek to trust him. Unfortunately, before trust, there had to be some semblance of a relationship, and before that, there had to be openness, and to Stiles anything about Derek that may be open and inviting was buried deep beneath his eternally cold exterior.

Stiles thoughts were cut short as he finished drying off only to realize that somewhere in the midst of his panicked retreat he had forgotten to grab a shirt. He sighed in frustration, letting out a few colorful choice words. Stiles was by no means used to this whole cohabitating thing and it was getting harder and harder by the minute. Having next to no experience living with anyone other than his parents, Stiles wasn’t sure how to handle this. Normally, he would simply walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel, but somehow he felt that approach would not end well, considering the more than likely chance of him running into Derek. Personally, he had always been a fan of ignoring problems until they eventually just went away but right now Stiles was mentally cursing himself for abusing his shower just for that reason. Stealing a quick glance down the hall in Derek’s direction, he noticed Derek didn’t look at all displeased with the longer-than-expected period of time to himself. In fact, he seemed almost relieved.  
Stiles took some comfort in the fact that Derek seemed just as uncomfortable living with someone as he was. However, their coping mechanisms differed slightly. Derek attempted to scare off his roommates by glaring daggers at them until they backed off, a technique he had undoubtedly honed to perfection in prison. Stiles on the other hand, resorted to cowering in his shower, a far less intimidating tactic in retrospect.

Stiles winced as he thought back to twenty minutes earlier, and remembered his vow to earn Derek’s trust. The more Stiles thought about it though the less confident he became. His whole plan to get Derek to trust him wasn’t off to a very good start, and the fact that Stiles was hiding out in his shower wasn’t improving matters. After a few more minutes of freaking out internally, Stiles decided to man up, get out of his bathroom and start round two with Derek Hale.

Stiles quickly wrestled his jeans on, and crept out of his bathroom with as much stealth as possible. For him of course, that was synonymous with immediately stubbing his toe on the edge of his dresser. “Ow shit!,” Stiles cursed as he crumpled onto the floor with all the grace of a tranquilized elephant. He grabbed at his throbbing toe while simultaneously curling up into a ball of pain, which is exactly how Derek found him about a minute later. Derek sauntered past his door, only stopping to casually observe Stiles curled in the fetal position, cradling his toe. “Ow… ow…ow,” Stiles repeated slowly, not looking up until he noticed the large shadow that had been cast over his pathetic form. He gradually tilted his head up until his pained, mortified expression was met with a look of mild, yet growing amusement on Derek’s face.

He looked down at Stiles in a way that made him impossible to ignore and tilted his head, obviously enjoying the show. There was a glint in his eyes that Stiles had never seen before and it created an unsettling similarity to Derek’s unstable uncle. Derek’s grin grew even wider, “I know you’re a bit challenged when it comes to motor skills, well skills in general, but walking doesn’t seem to be that complicated Stiles,” Derek teased, taking advantage of Stiles’ nickname once again.  
A bright red blush flared across Stiles’ cheeks, but as humiliated as he may have been, a small part of him was pleased to see Derek feeling comfortable enough to tease him. I’m guessing the use of sarcasm is a good sign, Stiles thought, with a bitter laugh to himself.

Derek took a few more moments to examine Stiles, who was still frozen in the same position on the floor, before deeming him not seriously injured and then turning away with that godforsaken smirk still plastered on his face. He reached the door, but stopped to say, “Oh, and Stiles, who would have known a respectable protector of the law could have such a colorful vocabulary. You’re almost worse than the prison guards.” Derek laughed low in his throat and continued out the door leaving Stiles alone on the floor with his throbbing toe. Yep this whole trusting each other thing was off to a great start.

As soon as Derek was gone Stiles closed his eyes and groaned more out of embarrassment than pain. Pressing his face into the ground, he wished he could just sink into the floor and disappear forever. After another minute of intense self loathing, Stiles got up to pull an old t-shirt from his demon dresser, casting the blessed thing a furious look as he did so. The t-shirt was soft and salmon colored; it was Stiles’ favorite and he was going to need it to get through the rest of the day.

Stiles stomach growled, adamantly reminding him that he only had one slice of pizza before rushing off to take an unneeded shower. He left his room with a slight limp in search of food and found two slices of pizza sitting on the table in a plate along with his bottle of coke. Stiles took note that Derek's plate was washed and already drying. At least he can help keep the house semi livable; Stiles never did like cleaning. Stiles pants began to tighten as inappropriate thoughts flooded his mind. Derek on all fours…scrubbing his floor spotless. Derek standing on his tiptoes struggling to put away the glasses that belong on the top shelf, as a strip of golden skin escapes his shirt revealing the thin strip of hair that leads to something even better.

Yeah, that could definitely work Stiles thought as he took a seat before his legs gave out from the sheer thought alone. Stiles was going to make the suggestion as soon as humanly possible because his house was clearly in need of a good cleaning. He greedily picked up another piece of pizza devouring it as more ill-timed images of Derek filled his mind to the brim.

As if on cue Derek chooses that moment to walk in shirtless. Before his already dysfunctional mental filter had a chance to process anything he blurted out, "Oh my God are you trying to kill me!" Derek, who seemed surprised by Stiles’ reaction, stopped abruptly. Derek stood in the space where the kitchen and living room seemed to blend together looking momentarily shocked before Stiles could practically see his gears turning. Derek took half a second to process the information before the same semi-psychotic glint that promised nothing but trouble had returned. Before Stiles could even blink, Derek was grabbing the chair across the table and pulling it over, sliding as close to Stiles as humanly possible.

"Does me not wearing a shirt make you uncomfortable Stiles," Derek all but whispers, his face so close that Stiles can see the flecks of gold and hazel in his eyes.  
"I, uh," Stiles flounders for a coherent answer "I just think that in order to keep this professional that needs to be covered at all times," Stiles gestured wildly to Derek's torso that Stiles could only assume was rock solid, all while attempting to maintain a serious expression. By the skeptical and extremely entertained expression on Derek's face, Stiles could tell that Derek wasn't buying it.

Derek proceeded to invade Stiles' space even further, succeeding in making him even more uncomfortable, especially in his lower regions. "You know Stiles you seem nervous. Why is that?" Derek questioned with mock light heartedness, letting Stiles know that Derek already knew the answer to that. By now he was all but sitting on Stiles' lap as he continued to taunt him with suggestive comments. "Somebody should really take care of that," Derek suggested with a fake sense of caring. Stiles looked down only to notice he was sporting a huge hard on for Derek Hale, whom he had just reprimanded for being unprofessional.

"Crap," Stiles huffed out, stumbling out of his chair and across the room within seconds. He could feel his face burning a deep shade of red and found himself wishing yet again that the world would open up and swallow him whole. "You should leave," Stiles deadpanned attempting to regain his composure.

"I was going to take a shower anyway," huffed Derek looking annoyed with Stiles because he refused to give into his childish banter.

"A shower?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "Then what was all of this? Do you get off on torturing me?" he demanded, wincing as he heard his voice crack halfway through the sentence. Stiles ran his long fingers through his short brown hair, shaking his head in utter disbelief and confusion. Stiles' hands scraped over his scalp as he racked his brain trying desperately to figure out how best to handle the situation. "Dude that is not cool. You can't just go around doing things like that to people. It's just not right," Stiles scolded Derek, his embarrassment quickly replaced with anger. “What do you want from me?" Stiles nearly yelled. With his emotions running high, Stiles was surprised at how much he sounded like his father when he used to get angry.

He didn't realize how much he actually wanted the answer until the words had already slipped out of his mouth. The only thing he could do now was wait for an answer that he should have known wasn't coming.

If Derek was surprised or angered by Stiles’ outburst his face revealed nothing aside from a slight raising of the eyebrows. Nonetheless, he was silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say.He opened his mouth and closed it twice before deciding on,"Right now I want you to show me where the shower is." Derek's words were forceful and demanding. Stiles threw his hands up, in aggravation, right eye twitching slightly. The two of them stared at each other for a few more moments, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact. Green into brown. The seconds crawled by like hours until finally, Stiles let out a sigh. Shoulders slumped in defeat he brushed past Derek, beckoning weakly for him to follow.

He led Derek to the bathroom in his bedroom, still trying to wrap his head around the concept of having to share a bathroom with this complete asshole. He reluctantly showed Derek where the towels were and how to turn the shower on before leaving his scowling face and perfectly sculpted torso behind. Stiles left the bathroom in a bitter state, making a new vow then. He wasn't just going to get Derek to trust him he was going to get crack Derek Hale open and discover just what he’s hiding under that armor of smirks and scowls. There had to be an actual person underneath his seemingly impenetrable exterior, and one way or another Stiles was going to find it. He was going to crack Derek wide open and if that meant toying with him until his armor fell apart then so be it. Game on.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys I'd like to thank all of you who have read this fic because you're fabulous! I'd also like to formally thank my friend Rhea for doing such a fabulous job helping me edit this and put it all together. Lastly I'd like to thank thegirlwiththetriskeletatoo.tumblr.com for assisting me with the plot line for the remainder of the story! Please check her out on wattpad or ao3 as moongoddessluna. Enjoy.

"Damn it Lydia I don't care if it's confidential, just get me the file," Stiles hissed. He had been on the phone with Lydia for at least twenty minutes trying to get Derek's file. Her only defense was the confidentiality of the file, but Stiles could smell bullshit from a mile away. "Lydia you give me this file and I'll watch The Notebook with you," Stiles reasoned. The other end of the line was silent as the redhead contemplated the deal.

"Stilinski you out of all people should know I can't do that. I would have thought eighteen years of snooping around your dad’s files would have taught you that," Lydia berated. She did her best to sound hassled by Stiles' ignorance, but Stiles had known Lydia for a long time and he could tell her already weak defense was starting to crumble.

"Lydia," Stiles whispered over the phone, softening his voice. "I need that file. I don't know a thing about him. You gave me this case after I explicitly asked you not to and getting me this file is the least you could do."

"Stiles," Lydia huffed out, her irritation clearly fading. "If I give you that file I can't promise you're going to like what you read. You can't unread it Stiles," Lydia sounded concerned but he had already made up his mind.

"I want the file."

"Okay," Lydia sighed heavily. "I emailed it to you ... but Stiles I'm doing this against my better judgment," Lydia began. The line went quiet for a few moments as if she was finished before he heard a sharp intake of breath and she continued "Just remember Stiles, not everyone's past is something they want to relive. Goodnight."

The line went dead and Stiles wasted no time as he practically ran over to his computer and hastily turned it on. As the computer screen went from black to bright blue Stiles thought back to what Lydia had said. What could she mean by that? Of course Derek's past was anything but easy to think about, but he had done his time for that. Stiles ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He sensed there was more to this than just Derek killing a woman. The computer finished loading and Stiles hesitated, thinking back once again to what Lydia had warned him of, before clicking to reveal the contents.

Stiles spent the next five minutes scanning through Derek's file without finding anything other than what he already knew. Derek had killed that woman, but pleaded self defense. The jury had ruled against him and sentenced him to two years in a juvenile detention center- taking into account that he was only sixteen when this happened- and five years in jail.

Derek Hale has served 7 years in a 7 year sentence. He has been released under the care of officer Stilinski until officer Stilinski appeals for freedom for Derek Hale or Mr. Hale has been thoroughly examined and given approval by a doctor.

Stiles eyes widened in shock at the sudden revelation. He was the one who could set Derek free. What the hell has Lydia gotten me into? The enormous effect that Stiles now knew he had on Derek's future caused his stomach to churn. He could appeal now, allowing Derek to leave and making Stiles’ life substantially easier, but that wasn't a smart idea. If Stiles appealed now not only would Derek fail to appease a judge but Stiles’ judgment would be questioned.

His thoughts wandered to Lydia and he felt a burst of anger rush into his gut. Why hadn't she told him about this? There was still one bit that nagged in the back of his mind, and that was that this surely could not have been what she was referring to on the phone. This had nothing to do with Derek's past, but rather, his future. That wasn't the only thing she had been hiding. A doctor? Why was a doctor Derek's other gateway into freedom? Lydia was hiding something else from him and he intended to find out exactly what it was.  
Stiles continued to scroll through the file until he came across something else unusual. His eyes scanned the pages in front of him until he came across a page that was mostly blank. At the top Stiles read: "Prison Behavior Report."

Not sure why the page was blank he racked his brain for an answer. He recalled a paper he turned in during his senior year of college about sociopaths. Each guard was assigned a group of prisoners that they were responsible for writing a report about prison behavior. They were required to turn one in at the end of each month for every inmate, and yet Derek didn't have a single one. Why were Derek's missing?

Stiles was about to call Lydia back and get to the bottom of this when Derek emerged from Stiles' room, shirtless yet again, with a towel low around his stunningly defined hip bones. File forgotten Stiles snuck what was meant to be a discreet glance at Derek, but was most likely a long and obvious stare. Stiles couldn't help but continuously gawk at Derek's well defined abs and that strip of dark hair that led beneath the towel. Suddenly a water droplet cascaded down his torso and under his towel. Without his consent Stiles' eyes worked on memorizing every inch of Derek's well defined body. Two minutes passed like this before Stiles became privy to what he was doing.

Timidly Stiles dragged his eyes up Derek's chiseled body uneager to find what awaited him. Stiles was correct when he thought it best to be afraid because as soon as his eyes met Derek's knowing gaze he knew he was screwed. Derek's eyebrows shot up in an amused expression Stiles was quickly becoming familiarized with. In attempt to preserve some of his dignity, Stiles looked down at the floor and coughed.

"You're unbelievable," Derek scoffed keeping up his knowing smirk as he headed toward the kitchen to grab an apple from the fridge.  
Deciding that playing innocent was the best method Stiles replied "I don't know what you're talking about. But I do however remember a conversation about keeping things professional." Stiles gestures to Derek's shirtless physique, chiding him.

"Says the guy who was just checking me out," Derek smiles but it falters slightly. Derek's eyes wander over Stiles' and away briefly as if contemplating how far he can push this. Stiles' eyes widen in shock obviously not prepared for such an accusation. A moment passed as the two of them snuck glances at one another never fully making eye contact.

"Please," Stiles adds a scoff for good measure. "You'd be so lucky. But moving on to a different but not unrelated topic, are you, like, allergic to shirts or do you just enjoy breaking rules for kicks?” Stiles snickered. He meant it as a mere stab at Derek’s seemingly rock solid ego, but clearly that wasn't how his comment was received. Derek's easy grin wavered as if Stiles has just proved a point to him. A long time passed before Derek spoke his voice soft and rough. "Do you have a shirt?"

"A shirt?" questioned a blindsided Stiles.

"Yes," Derek nearly growled. " I spilled Coke on mine and my wardrobe is ... lacking" , his eyes narrowed almost dangerously.

"Yeah, totally. A whole bunch. Unfortunately I don't know how many of them will fit your gigantic body," explained Stiles leading the way into his bedroom. Derek's lip twitched in amusement. Another win for Stiles.

**************************************************************

Ten minutes later Derek and Stiles were sitting on Stiles' bed staring at the mess scattered over the floor. Derek must have tried on ten shirts before they found one that actually fit and then there was the matter of finding one that reached Derek's standards. Stiles did however learn that Derek did not look good in orange and blue striped shirts. Finally Derek retrieved a light blue v-neck from Stiles' dresser and angrily threw it over his head. Stiles angled his head to admire the shirt, ogling at the way it clung to Derek's muscles. "That could work," Stiles squeaked his voice rising several octaves. "But I think you need some clothes of your own, so we're going to the mall." Derek nodded in silent consent but Stiles was quick to catch the excitement in Derek's eyes. Stiles’ stomach clenched unpleasantly as he realized that Derek's last mall trip would have been seven years ago, and that's if he even bothered to drag his emotionally constipated ass to the mall before jail, which Stiles highly doubted.

  
***************************************************************************

Thirty minutes later Stiles found himself entering a very crowded mall with the barely contained ball of excitement that was Derek Hale. Stiles watched in amusement as Derek tried to reshape his expression into one of blatant indifference, but no matter how hard he tried, there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes, or the small smile that was fighting its way onto his lips. "You know it's not a crime to be excited about something. Or show any amount of emotion for that matter," Stiles laughed lightheartedly.  
"Stiles?" Derek asked almost politely. "Shut up," Derek sneered mustering up as much sarcasm as humanely possible. "And last time I checked, being pissed off was still an emotion."

Stiles, more humored than upset by the outburst teased, "Whatever you say Sour wolf." Derek scoffed at the nickname turning to Stiles and making what was meant to be a menacing glare. Stiles easily saw through the mask knowing that Derek liked the nickname but refused to let his guard down. Something seriously messed up must have happened to Derek to make him this way. It has to do with his file being missing. The thoughts nagged at Stiles brain as he led Derek through the too crowded mall.  
As the unlikely pair struggled through the crowd, Stiles fought his way out of the throng of people and turned into Hollister, with Derek in tow. Stiles looked back at Derek and was taken aback to see that his initial mask of boredom and been transformed into one of genuine contentment. His usual stormy green eyes now looked friendlier and more inviting. Stiles shook himself out of his stupor, realizing he had been standing at the entrance staring at Derek and hastily continued into the store.

"Ok here's the deal. Get whatever you need, since Lydia didn't bother to tell me how long this will last. Don't worry it's on the station." Stiles held up his company credit card praying that Lydia wouldn't revoke his privilege after this outing. Derek's lips turned up into a small smile as he walked away blending in with the crowd and racks of new clothes.  
Stiles lazily strolled around the store admiring the pricey merchandise. Stiles thought back to the file he had read and contemplated pulling it up on his cell phone. Balling his hands into fists Stiles knew that now was not the time especially when Derek could come back at any second. Nevertheless, Stiles was never one to simply let things go, and this was certainly not going to be an exception. Nervously glancing around, making sure Derek was completely occupied looking for jeans, he drew his phone from his pocket. It was four O'clock which meant Lydia was filing papers. Stiles groaned knowing Lydia hated being disturbed while putting everything in order and wouldn't answer even if he did call.

Stiles decided to leave her a text message instead.

Lydia I got the file but there was a serious problem. Derek's prison behavior reports were missing. ALL OF THEM. Get to the bottom of this ASAP and that's non-negotiable!

Stiles rapidly typed out the message and shoved his phone back in his pocket as Derek approached. He was carrying a sweatshirt, five shirts, four pairs of jeans, and boxers. "Perfect," Stiles smiled and rang up the items. Derek returned the smile hesitantly as they left the store.  
The two went in and out of a few other stores getting Derek the necessities like soap, towels, and new shoes. They had been bickering for the last ten minutes about what shoes Derek should get and had long since reached an impasse. "Do you really want to get black shoes Derek?" Stiles pestered.

"Stiles I happen to like black. It's very ... neutral," Derek reasoned sounding more like the adult than Stiles.

"I think the word you're looking for is boring. Seriously dude I think the green laces look just as neutral as the black ones and they match your eyes." Stiles laughed at Derek's stubbornness but felt his face flush slightly at the compliment he had given the other man.

Derek didn't seem concerned with the implications of the compliment as he retorted, "Well it's a good thing I don't wear shoe laces on my eyes then Stiles."

"Fine fine you can have your boring shoe laces," Stiles surrendered. "But, you have to wear this shirt in return." Stiles pulled out a green Hawaiian button down shirt covered with flowers. Stiles had forced Derek to try it on as a joke, but had decided that he liked it and managed to slip it in with the pile of clothes at checkout. Derek grumbled at the sight of the flowery disaster, but he sighed in consent, looking utterly defeated.

Stiles huffed out a laugh and said "How bad do you want those shoe laces?" Derek gave a half hearted attempt to glare at Stiles but there was no force behind it. He got up, reluctantly walking over to where the shoe laces were and grabbed the green ones. He turned to Stiles raising his eyebrows as if to say 'are you happy now.' Stiles shuffled over to the register flashing Derek a smile and playfully teased, "Don't be so bitter Derek they really do match your eyes."

Stiles locked eyes with Derek, staring into the other man’s eyes, and he found himself wondering what dark secrets Derek had locked away in there. He was broken out of his trance by the man at the register clearing his throat in obvious annoyance. Stiles looked away quickly as red covered his features, as Derek immediately averted his eyes, taking a sudden, intense interest in the receipt. Mustering up a cough of his own Stiles regained the attention of the cashier and bought the sneakers with green laces.

Deciding it was time for dinner Derek and Stiles headed to the food court. Stiles laughed inwardly to himself, as he saw Derek’s eyebrows twitch in surprise at the various options. They sat down at a table in the corner of the food court and Stiles quickly scanned the options. "Ok we've got Wendy's, Nathans, Saladworks, or some sketchy Chinese place that most likely didn't pass its health inspection. Bon appetite." Derek glanced around the food court, in obvious indecision. Stiles grinned again, "Calm down Derek the food isn’t going anywhere so you can stop staring like you’ve died and gone to heaven," Stiles paused to laugh at the way Derek's brow furrowed at Stiles' comment. "I'm going to Nathans. Try to stop staring long enough to decide on what you want." Derek nodded as Stiles walked away from the table towards Nathans.

Derek watched Stiles get up and walk over to his choice of restaurant. He smirked at Stiles squinting his eyes trying to read the menu. He kept looking around, trying to decide if he should take his chances with the Chinese or not.

A tiny ding rang from somewhere on the table and Derek searched the shopping bags only to find Stiles had left his phone sitting on the table. Derek stared at the phone unsure of what he should do. He knew reading Stiles' messages wasn't right but Derek couldn’t help but be curious. Pushing the latter thought away Derek tried to forget about the message. He looked back over to Stiles who seemed to be getting into a rather serious argument of his order the manager. Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ childish mannerisms, but found himself grinning at how cute it was anyway. Cute? Shaking the thought away, he firmly reprimanded himself for even using the adjective in the first place, let alone on his parole officer.

Ding.

The sound of Stiles phone rang loud in Derek's ear practically mocking him. Derek looked at the phone, conflicted. It could be an emergency…maybe someone is in trouble. Convincing himself he was only doing this for the greater good, and not simply because his curiosity had gotten the better of him, he picked up the phone swiftly hiding it under the table and away from Stiles' view. Stiles had received one new text message from Lydia Martin who Derek vaguely remembered as police chief. Why would the chief be texting Stiles on his day off? Derek questioned. Giving into his curiosity completely, Derek opened the message.  
Stiles I warned you about this. Digging into this guy’s past isn't smart.

Derek frowned in suspicion. A message like that was enough to sound the alarms in his head, but he told himself that he didn’t really have any solid evidence that Stiles was talking about him. After all, Stiles hadn’t given him reason not to trust him yet, so Derek put the phone back on the table.

Ding.

Derek sighed reaching for the phone once again.  
You owe me big time for this Stilinski. I had to pull a lot of strings to get this. Don't do anything stupid.  
Attached to the message was a file. Derek glanced back at Stiles to see him making his way back to the table. Derek looked back down at the phone, then up at Stiles, and then back down at the phone once again.

He clicked on the file.

The document opened revealing Derek's files from prison. The files that he was promised were confidential. Derek’s jaw clenched and he saw red, momentarily blinded by anger, as he slammed the cell phone onto the table. Stiles had been checking up on him. He almost trusted Stiles. Derek was angry but more than anything he was disappointed in himself for almost trusting one of them.

Seeing Derek start to freak out Stiles started jogging over to the table. "Derek what's wrong? Are you okay?" Stiles asked in a voice filled with innocent concern.

"Why don't you ask Lydia. She seems to be giving you full updates on me now anyway," Derek growled at Stiles and began to grab the bags haphazardly spread across the table.  
Stiles' brain took all of five seconds to realize what Derek was talking about before glancing down at his phone. "Derek-" Stiles was cut off abruptly.

"Save it. Officer," Derek spat out coldly.

 

"I was just trying to understand you," Stiles pleaded with Derek. Upon hearing Stiles’ attempt at reconciling the situation, Derek shook his head. Stiles was just another therapist trying to fix him.

"You can't understand me Stiles," Derek whispered barely audible over the lazy chatter of the food court. "You're just another one of them."

"If you give me the chance," Stiles was begging now but he didn't care. He needed Derek to understand that he wasn't a monster.

"We should leave now," Derek said stoically finally managing to grab all the bags. Stiles nodded in defeat grabbing his phone from the table and shoving it unceremoniously into his pocket.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was by far my favorite chapter to write so enjoy!

To describe the car ride home as tense would be an incredible understatement. Stiles clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles, stealing the occasional wary glance toward Derek in the passenger seat. Derek on the other hand, in strong contrast to Stiles’ panicked jumpiness, stared stonily out the window and had not so much as twitched in twenty minutes. Stiles opened his mouth to say something for what had to be the thousandth time, but thought better of it as he knew he would be met with nothing but silence. Shutting his mouth, he turned his attention back to the road and clutched the steering wheel even tighter, allowing himself to get caught up in his thoughts.

God Stilinski way to go and fuck everything up! Just when things were starting to turn around you decide to act like an idiot sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Just as Stiles was about to continue his mental rampage of self deprecation, the reasonable side of his brain kicked in and reminded him that Derek’s business was his business. I suppose I would have found out eventually, and then he would have found out one way or another….but why did it have to happen this way? Stiles was saved from further inner abuse as he turned onto his street, and parked in front of his familiar apartment.

“So uh-”, Stiles began, but was cut off as Derek flew out of the car, slamming the door behind him with enough force to jar Stiles’ bones. Stiles would have given anything to stay in his car forever, and not have to face Derek in the house, but he reminded himself that he was the cause of this whole issue, and this was one instance where avoiding the problem would definitely not make it go away.

Reluctantly entering his apartment, Stiles was relieved to see that Derek had shut himself away in his own room, probably to hang up his new clothes, and plan Stiles’ murder.  
Groaning for what must have been the millionth time at what a complete and utter mess he had made of things, Stiles leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted, and ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he would have to face Derek sooner or later. This was a small apartment; there was no way they could just tiptoe around each other for however long Derek would be living here. Nonetheless, the very thought of going face to face with an undoubtedly furious Derek Hale made Stiles’ head spin. But Stiles simply couldn’t handle the not knowing. Something had happened to Derek in that prison, something serious. There was more to his anger than simply being mad that Stiles had been digging through his personal life, it was the way he had said “you can’t fix me”. Derek was definitely hiding something, and it was almost like he was afraid? No, Stiles thought, a cold fist tightening in his stomach, it was almost like he was guilty. Stiles did not have a choice anymore, terrified or not, he had to talk to Derek. He had to find out what happened in that prison.

Stiles stood in front of Derek’s closed door, his hand hovering in a fist, but unable to bring himself to knock. Grow a pair and knock on the damn door Stiles! a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lydia ordered him. Straightening his shoulders, and raising his chin, Stiles took a deep breath, and firmly knocked on the door, here goes nothing. For a minute there was nothing, and Stiles seriously considering bolting down the hall, and pretending he had never been there, but it was too late, because at that very moment, the door swung open to reveal the man that had grown into his worst nightmare in the past ten minutes.

Derek said nothing, simply stared at Stiles, anger emanating off of him in waves. Stiles stared back and tried to control his breathing. Get yourself together you’re a police officer for God’s sake. This is your job, you have to get to the bottom of this. Taking a deep breath, Stiles said in a voice he hoped wasn’t shaking, “Derek. We need to talk.”

“No thanks officer” Was Derek’s flat response. He continued to stare Stiles down without blinking, but to his surprise, his brooding glare was met with an equally unwavering gaze.

“Sorry but I’m afraid I wasn’t asking.” Stiles responded with a level of assertion he didn’t know he possessed. Derek blinked, obviously taken back. Not wanting to give Derek enough time to recover and throw him off again Stiles continued, “Look, I’m sorry about what happened in the mall. But you can’t keep something like this, not from me. So I need you to let me inside and tell me everything. Now.”

Derek’s jaw clenched in anger, but Stiles was too determined to back down at this point, and he could see Derek was giving in. After what seemed like a millennia of staring each other down, Derek gave Stiles’ a curt nod, and widened the door a fraction of an inch, just enough to let Stiles know he was welcome inside. Trying to hide a smile of victory, Stiles stepped inside the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, closed the door behind him.  
Stiles stood for a minute, looking around awkwardly until finally deciding to take a seat on the edge of Derek’s immaculately made bed. Derek on the other hand stood with his arms crossed and feet braced in front of his dresser.

Surprisingly it was Derek who broke the silence, “Look….Stiles”, Stiles was secretly glad he had used his name instead of officer, “I’m not sure you want to hear this.”  
Stiles sighed; he was reaching the end of his patience with this guy and his secrets. “No Derek, you look. I can’t be walking on eggshells around you for the rest of your time here. You want to get out of here? Well, apparently that’s not going to happen until I judge you stable enough to do so, and I can’t do that without knowing a single thing about you. So spill.”

Derek pressed his lips into a hard, thin line, and Stiles was afraid he had gone too far.

“ It’s not a pleasant story.”, Derek said, still trying to convince Stiles.

“Yeah I’ve worked that much out for myself.” Stiles retorted with a faint smirk. He could clearly tell Derek’s defenses were crumbling.

Derek sighed under his breath, “Stiles I’m warning you, you can’t un-hear this.”

Stiles laughed softly to himself, having heard practically those same words from Lydia. “Derek, trust me, I know what I’m getting into, and neither of us have a choice here.”  
Derek turned away, and Stiles ground his teeth in frustration, thinking he was going to have to argue again. Derek stayed silent though, fists resting on the dresser in front of him. Minutes past and the silence in the room grew heaver. This is hopeless. He isn't going to tell me anything after what I did. Dammit Stilinski. Just as Stiles was about to get up and leave deeming the mission useless Derek turned around. Everything about his stance conveyed a tension that had no doubt been built up from years of pent up anger and frustration. Stiles noticed that his eyes told a different story. They were softer they almost looked guilty pleading with Stiles to let this go and leave. Their eyes met breifly and that was almost enough to send Stiles running, but he had to stay. He had to know.

When Derek realized Stiles wasn't leaving he took a breath. His eyes seemed to glaze over and the story began.

"It started 7 years ago when I killed Kate Argent."

Derek stood above the bloody and limp body of Kate Argent, hands shaking frantically. Rain was pouring down on him in buckets turning the blood a pinkish color. He heard the sirens approaching and knew he should move, should run, but he couldn't. Before he could register what was happening he heard the cautious but demanding yells of the officers "Put down your weapon and put your hands behind your head." He did as they demanded practically on autopilot. He was in a fog and barely registered the tall gruff sounding officer pulling his hands down behind his back and feeling the cool metal cuffs enclose around his wrists. As the man led him away reading him his rights, he looked back to see an officer checking the pulse of Kate and declaring her dead. He heard the shrill cries of his mother and sisters and saw his father rushing to his defense.  
"What is the meaning of this," his father challenged looking more at Derek than the officer still pulling him away.

Derek didn't know to explain what he had done. How he had brought this psycho to their home - more than once - and she had tried to kill them. How he had trusted her and had taken her to bed. How she had used him and then thrown him away like he meant nothing to her, which he did. He knew that now, but it was too late. Derek didn't know how to tell him so he simply said "You're save now. That's all that matters." He gave his dad a small smile as the officer guided him into the police vehicle. It was the truth after all. The Hale family was safe. Everyone except Derek.

At the station Derek was interviewed and gave a full confession without hesitation without speaking to a lawyer. He had killed her, and he wasn't ashamed of it.  
"I don't regret what I did. Kate was a monster and because of what I did my family is alive. That's what matters." Derek's tone was somber but his voice unwavering. He wasn't lying. Stiles swallowed hard processing what he had just heard. Being a cop Stiles loyalties lay with the law, but the closer he examined the situation the more he empathized with Derek.

Having lost his mother at such a young age, Stiles' dad was all he had left and there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep him safe. Put in Derek's situation who's to say he wouldn't do the same? If Kate had seduced him all those years ago who's to say Derek and Stiles' roles wouldn't be reversed? These thoughts hit Stiles like a punch to the gut, and he needed to know more. It wasn't killing Kate that had caused the remorseful glint in Derek's eyes, so what was it?

"Your dad was actually the one who arrested me Stiles," Derek's heavy tone turned lighter for just a moment as he glanced up at Stiles. "He processed me and testified against me at my trial." Stiles eyes opened wider looking momentary shocked and partially guilty until Derek eased his mind. "Not that it mattered. I had already confessed to the crime and more cops than your dad knew it."

Derek Hale sat in a cell at The Beacon Hills Police Station awaiting his futile trial. His family had come by to see him earlier that day, smothering him with affectionate words and promises to bring him home safely. They didn't know he had confessed to the murder, and he wasn't itching to tell them and spoil one of his last happy memories with them. His younger sister Cora enthusiastically babbled about making his favorite cookies. "And I told Laura that no one is allowed to eat them until you get home Derek." Cora smiled at him honestly, without a care in the world. His father and mother talked strategy. Derek knew that the even the combine force of his mother and father couldn't stop the inevitable prison time that was forthcoming.

After his family left the hours dragged on slowly, but the days ended as quickly as they began. The trial was over swiftly. The judge was a heavy set man of at least forty five. He swung his gavel announcing the end of the trial, and he looked to Derek judgmentally. "The court finds Derek Hale guilty of the Murder of Kate Argent. I sentence him to 7 years in prison." Derek's heart was beating rapidly like it was trying to escape the confines of his chest. He distantly heard his families cries' and the court officer grabbing his arm, demanding his attention. "Let's go kid." The world around him was spinning and his feet felt like lead when he walked.

Still in a haze Derek was dragged into a small back room that smelled of old books and was heavy with the air of hopelessness and loss. He waited there for what felt like hours. He wasn't surprised by the verdict yet it had hit him like a brick wall. Soon enough his family came rushing in with wet eyes and open arms, forced smiles covering all of their faces. His mother hugged him first holding him in her strong arms. Derek pulled her in tightly, glad to have this parting comfort before seven years of imminent loneness.  
One by one he said his goodbyes, only tearing up slightly when his big sister Laura hauled him into a bear hug. "I love you Derek and nothing will change that. I'll come visit you, okay? Laura smiled at him, the only genuine smile he had received since his arrest. Derek nodded slowly with his head tucked away in Laura's strong shoulder.

After all was said and done his family waved goodbye and was escorted out of the small room. Derek stood there feeling hollow but not at all bitter. He may have lost his family for now, but they were not dead. He optimistically thought to himself that he may have lost the battle, but he won the war.

"As you know I was sent to California State Penitentiary where I wasted seven years of my life," Derek spit out hatefully. Stiles noted the animosity behind his words revealing that Derek's true problem lay within his time in jail.

Three year past and Derek served his time without problem. He wasn't one for words, preferring to isolate himself from the other convicts. He had offers, prisoners who wantedhim to be part of their gang, but they were never any threat to Derek. He was almost six feet tall and packed as much muscle as a boxer, so he simply declined their offers and they let him be. Laura visited every Friday staying true to her promise. The rest of his family stopped by once a month and Cora always brought him cookies. Derek had made peace with the situation long ago and everything was going as smoothly as possible. Sometime in January during his third year his cellmate passed away. He was an old frail man in his seventies in jail for life and Derek wasn't taken aback by the news. It didn't take long for the spot to be filled.

"In my third year of prison I received a new cellmate, his name was Isaac Lahey," Derek stated struggling to keep his normally stoic composure. Stiles could see the his mask crack as he said Isaac's name. The boy was clearly important to Derek and possibly where his guilty and guarded demeanor had emerged.

Isaac Lahey walked to the last cell on the third floor of the penitentiary his green eyes wide with fear and shock. He didn't kill his father, even though the jury had thought otherwise. The full effects of what had just happened and where he was hadn't sunk in, but he seemed to snap out of his reverie walking toward his future home. Men from the surrounding cells called to him, howling from the darkness above. "Hey beautiful. How 'bout you come up to my bunk, I've got room," purred one man from the floor above.

"Shut up. A pretty kid like that ought to have someone take care of him. Right kid?" Came another voice, this one sounding more like a growl. He heard the female officer - whose nametag read Allsion - let out a frustrated sigh. She guided him to his cell and yelled for another guard to open it. Putting a light hand on his back she maneuvered him into the cell and called once again up to the guard. The cell shut with a clank, but Isaac barely heard it, infatuated with his new roommate. The man was at least six feet tall with brown hair and green eyes, his nose was buried in a book. He looked intimidating, but years of abuse had prepared Isaac for prison and he wasn't frightened.

"Do you need something or were you just planning on staring at me all day," the man seemed exasperated with Isaac already. He closed his book and looked Isaac up and down with a displeased look on his face. "How old are you, kid?"

"I'm eighteen," Isaac stated walking the few steps to the bed and dropping his few possessions on the empty bottom bunk. Derek didn't seem fazed by the answer with a simple raise of his eyebrows he turned back to his book.

"Isaac was a good kid, Stiles. He was convicted of murdering his father, but he didn't do it," Derek's forceful tone left no room for interpretation. Stiles nodded his head in agreement trusting Derek's judgment.

The next day Derek sat eating his lunch in the dining hall. Everything in the prison tasted like oatmeal and steal bread, but he hardly noticed the taste anymore only eating because his body required it. His eyes swept the room looking for nothing in particular but landing on his new cellmate, Isaac. The boy was holding his tray looking around the room trying to act nonchalant, but his hand was shaking slightly. He had been crowded by a few older men who were inviting him over to their table. Derek knew who they were, and the sort of crimes that had landed them inside the jail. Before fully comprehending what he was doing, Derek forcing his way past prisoners making a beeline for Isaac.

"Leave. The kids with me." Derek's strict inflection left no room for argument.

"What's the matter Hale? Got yourself a new boy toy?" teased one of the men. If glares could kill the man would have died on the spot, but he clearly got the message and took his friends away promptly. Isaac opened his mouth to thank Derek, but Derek was already halfway back to his table. Figuring this was as good an invitation as any Isaac followed Derek back to his deserted table.

"Wow some crowd you've got here," Isaac smirked at Derek who responded with a scowl. Isaac put his tray down cautiously waiting for Derek to stop him. When Derek said nothing Isaac pulled the chair out across from Derek and sat down with a thump. He felt embarrassed yet thankful that Derek had come to his rescue. Isaac opened his mouth to thank Derek but this time was stopped by Derek's hand coming up in a silent gesture.

"I don't need your gratitude. Don't expect this to be a regular thing. Learn how to fight or make some strong friends," Derek grunted picking at what appeared to be moldy yogurt.

"I don't need protection. My father was an abusive bastard. I guess that's why people think I killed him. I think I can handle a few sexually frustrated old men," Isaac snapped in retaliation with a hint of arrogance.

Derek's face stayed impassive but his head shot up in clear interest. Isaac braced himself for another superficial response like he had heard frequently after his past abuse was revealed in court. Instead Derek lips twitched forming a small smile. "A bastard huh? You'll meet a few of those in here too kid," Derek smiled then, a genuine gesture which Isaac returned.

"Isaac was the closest person I had to family in there." Derek paused thinking over his next words carefully. How much did he really want to reveal to Stiles? Derek argued with himself before a thought occurred to him. He had just told Stiles that he didn't regret murdering a woman in cold blood and that his best friend was also a murderer and yet Stiles was still here listening to him. Stiles could have gotten up declared Derek mentally ill and left him to continue carrying this burden, but he didn't. Derek looked at him then, noticing his hazel eyes focused intently on the floor and his pink lips formed into a thin line. His eyes traveled over his muscular arms and lanky frame. Stiles was beautiful. Derek let the thought sink into his brain smiling to himself before being interrupted by those amber orbs.

Stiles eyes were filled with compassion and he smiled tenderly exposing more of his soft lips. "Derek, are you okay? You don't have to continue."

"Yes Stiles I do," Derek nodded his head a brief smile grazing his face. He didn't just have to continue, he wanted to. He wanted Stiles to understand why he was this way. Guilty. Angry. Closed off. "Isaac gave me hope."

The two boys were fast friends. Derek protected Isaac from every pervert and psycho the prison had, although Isaac often pointed out he didn't need Derek's protection. In return Isaac was Derek's friend. Derek talked him about books and places he hoped to travel someday, and most of all his family. On a rainy day in March the boys sat in their cell playing cards when Isaac looked up unexpectedly asked "What's it like?"

"Isaac I already told you I'm not telling you what sex is like. Stop asking," Derek scolded the younger man half heartedly.

"Derek that was one time! That's not what I meant. What's it like having a family?" Isaac asked hopefully.  
A million different words popped into Derek's head. Laughter. Love. Fights. Chaos. Worth it. Instead of spitting out a group of words Derek dealt the card and decided on this.

"It's one of the hardest things I've ever dealt with, but the most rewarding. Isaac you know what my big sister said to me right before she said goodbye? She told me she loved me." Derek smiled at the fond memory and looked up to see one tear fall slowly down Isaac's face. "Isaac your family isn't always who you grow up with, sometimes they're the people you look after, who you feel closest too," Derek stated gently. Isaac looked up at the older man then. Tears forgotten Isaac nodded to Derek smiling at him honestly.

"Isaac was family to me. He was like my little brother."

"What happened to him Derek?" Stiles asked tentatively knowing he was treading into uncharted territory. He had the feeling Derek hadn't shared these precious memories with anyone, and he had to get this out now. He has already been carrying this burden for far too long.

Resolve completely shattering Derek met his eyes with a desperate expression "I don't know."

June rolled around quickly and both the boys were happy to be allowed outside again. The cool breeze felt heavenly as it hit their pale skin. Isaac and Derek sat on their favorite bench on the outskirts of the prison. No one bothered them there except an occasional acquaintance of Derek's or a stay inmate roaming the area. They talked a great deal on that bench some days, and others Derek flipped through his novels leaving Isaac to his own mind.

One day in late June Derek was talking about the cookies Cora had made for him last time she visited. " She had overcooked them so they tasted more like hockey pucks. It was disgusting, but she forced me to eat all of them anyway." Isaac laughed imagining Cora force feeding Derek cookies burnt to the crisp. Isaac noticed the three men from that first day in the dining hall approaching them and tensed up quickly. Derek noticed the change in behavior and turned to glare at the three offenders.

"Derek, baby long time no see," the man talked smoothly and assuredly.

"What do you want," Derek sneered not in the mood for such a disturbance.

"Come on don't be like that. We have a proposition for you."

"Whatever it is I'm not interested," Derek crossed his arms getting up from the bench showing his full height and muscle.

"Derek you might want to rethink that," the man hissed out, his whole personally changing from suave business man to cruel villain in mere seconds.

"And why is that?" Derek asked testing the man. There was a sudden snap of fingers and before Derek could react he was pinned to the ground by the man's henchmen . They forced him down one man grabbing his face and pushing it into the ground hard, the other firmly holding his arms and legs assuring no movement. Derek was completely trapped.

"No matter what you do to me the answer is still no," Derek's spat out.

"Oh Derek it's not you I'm going to hurt. It's your friend." Derek heard the familiar cry of Isaac as he landed on the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious. Derek's breathing became heavy as he yelled out Isaac's name and struggled against the men holding him.

"Isaac!" Derek screamed. When no response came he kept calling. He heard the distinctive sound of bone breaking and struggled furiously, but it was ineffective. All Derek could do was lay there and listen to this bastard use Isaac as his punching bag, praying the torture would end.  
After about ten minutes it ended. He walked over to Derek and looked down at him with fake sympathy. "Oh Derek it's not that bad. I didn't kill him, scout's honor. Now what do you say about our little deal?"

"My answer is still no," Derek ground his teeth in anger. The man snapped again and Derek was hauled to his feet. He started fighting against the men once again but they held him firmly in place.

"What a pity. You would have been a great addition." The man laughed haughtily punching Derek in the stomach for good measure and walking away with his henchmen in tow. Derek lay on the ground cringing before remembering Isaac. He sat up wincing at the lingering pain in his gut and rushed over to Isaac.

"Isaac!" Derek yelled in vain. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to bring you to a doctor. You're going to be fine," Derek repeated over and over again as he picked Isaac up shaking as he frantically screaming for a guard.

"Isaac was beaten pretty badly and it was my fault. I refused to join their stupid gang, I realize now that I was wrong," Derek whispered the last part tears pricking at his eyes. At Stiles gesture Derek moved toward the bed on unsteady feet. He sat down letting a few tears slip down his face and brushing them away lightly. The two sat in silence for a few minutes as Derek slowed his breathing and retaining further tears. After Derek composed himself somewhat he continued.

"After the fight Isaac was taken to a hospital nearby and I ... I was depressed," Derek added eyes looking away from Stiles in shame.

Stiles picked up on Derek's embarrassment and confidently said "Hey you have nothing to be ashamed of. You lost your best friend and were forced to see the people who did that to him everyday knowing you could do nothing to avenge him," the last sentence sounded bitter and Derek knew that Stiles was sharing his feelings. he understood. Stiles gaze met Derek and he hesitantly added " It's okay to be vulnerable Derek." Derek just nodded in silent agreement taking in everything that was Stiles.

After the fight Derek's depression overtook him. His emotions were constantly switching from grief to anger in the blink of an eye. He got into fights that weren't necessary, and got sent to solitary confinement more times than he can remember. He pissed of Laura so much that she stopped coming all together. He was completely and totally alone.  
The psychologist deemed him unstable in September and he was transferred to the psych ward immediately. There Derek saw every doctor in the hospital, and some from out of town, but none of them could crack the code. He was like a oyster that wouldn't open, and even if it did there would be no pearl inside, just a dark empty space. He served the rest of his sentence there, and even if Isaac did come back he never saw him.

"After I was placed in the psych ward for depression, every doctor in the place tried to crack me. They used every method in the book, but I didn't want to talk to them. And my files were supposed to be protected by doctor patient confidentiality."

Stiles scratched the back of his head. "Yeah sorry about that. I just wanted to understand you Derek."

"It's okay Stiles. You don't have to apologize," Derek said honestly. He felt closer to Stiles now than he had to anyone since Isaac. If he was honest with himself, it felt good.  
Derek closed his mouth, his eyes hardening once again in indication that he was done talking about this. Stiles sat in silence next to him, feeling slightly ill, and completely unsure of what to say next. So this is what happened. His friend, his only friend, a kid too, was almost killed and he blames himself. Stiles wasn’t sure what he felt, a dizzying mix of emotions were swirling around inside of him. Pity, perhaps? Anger, at the injustice of it all? He just didn’t know. He looked over at Derek, but the other man had resumed his pensive staring at the wall, oblivious to anyone around him. I should say something, Stiles thought. I can’t just sit here saying nothing after hearing something like that. But what could he possibly say? I understand? It’s not your fault? Hey man, shit happens? Those all sounded completely superficial and shallow to his own ears.

So instead of saying anything Stiles simply placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. Derek stiffened at the contact momentarily, and Stiles almost pulled his hand away, but just as quickly as it had come, the tension was gone. Derek didn’t lean into his touch, but he didn’t reject it either, and so they sat. They sat for what may have been minutes, or what may have been hours, Stiles really didn’t care. They sat in silence, because sometimes, there are no words. Because sometimes, there really isn’t anything one can say. They sat together, neither looking at the other, while Stiles rubbed soothing circles into Derek’s shoulder with his thumb. No words were exchanged, not even one, they simply sat together. And sometimes, when words fail, that’s enough.


	8. Chapter 8

After that night, something changed between them. The constant tension, so thick that it had been almost tangible, that had weighed down the apartment was now all but gone. The next week flew by as the two men began to drift into a comfortable flow. Stiles went back to the station, while Derek lounged around reading, or finding other ways to amuse himself. Stiles often came home to find him sprawled out on the couch surrounded by multiple books. Occasionally he would notice Derek watching one of Stiles' old sci-fi movies, but he would turn it off as soon as Stiles came home, as if he was afraid to admit to actually enjoying something other than brooding. Stiles laughed fondly at the thought.

Stiles hadn't told Derek - it was doubtful he ever would - but he missed staying home with him. Lydia had given him only a brief few days to become adjusted, and while not long ago that would have seemed like a blessing, he found himself actually missing his brooding house guest. Ever since that night in Derek's bedroom a week ago, his interest had peaked more than ever. Derek was no longer a closed off, unapproachable inconvenience, but rather an enigma that Stiles was finally being able to solve piece by piece. In little ways, such as admitting his favorite cereal was Lucky Charms, Derek had been opening up to Stiles. These little insights weren't the only reason that home seemed more appealing than the station.

Ever since he had gotten back people hadn't been the most amicable towards him. The news about Stiles housing an ex convict had gotten around fairly quickly. It wasn't as if Stiles was trying to keep it hidden, but he wasn't exactly racing to tell his co-workers about the situation. The fact that his colleagues and himself worked day in and day out to put people like Derek in jail made it all the worse. He isn't like the others though. Stiles had to constantly remind himself that Derek wasn't the bad guy. He was put into a bad situation and did what he had to do. During moments like these, Stiles found himself wondering when the line between the law, and simple fairness, something that had always seemed undeniably solid to him, had become so incredibly blurred.

Nonetheless the fact that after the colossal struggle to pry one word out of Derek, he had finally chosen Stiles as his confidant was enough to put a smile on his face as he packed up his latest cases, ready to head out of the office. He froze in the middle of reaching for a towering stack of manila folders upon hearing a woman’s voice, "Can you believe it? If I were him I wouldn't let that criminal within 20 yards of my house." Stiles felt his blood begin to boil at the condescending tone in her voice.

"From what I've been hearing, him and Stilinski are getting along pretty well. I heard they make a pretty good pair." He heard the blond woman who had the desk next to him snicker in agreement.

Stiles clenched his jaw.

He turned around brusquely, so he was facing them head on. The two woman blinked, obviously startled at being caught in the midst of their gossip fest.  
They stared at Stiles coolly, pursing their overdone lips, and not having the good grace to look apologetic in the slightest.

"You don't even know him. Or what he has lost. Derek Hale may have gone to jail and he might have killed that woman but he is twice the person that either of you could ever hope to be," His voice was steady and unwavering, yet it held a threatening undertone that could not go unnoticed. His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to keep his anger in check. "Why don't you pull your heads out of your asses long enough to realize that he is trying." Stiles voice nearly cracked on the last word.

He took a minute to calm down running his hand through his hair and down his face quickly, as the two women stood completely nonplussed and unsure of what to do. When Stiles was no longer only seeing red he turned back to his desk in an impromptu dismissal. He heard rather than saw the clacking of heels as the two women fled down the hallway.

On his way out he could have sworn he saw Lydia smirking down at him from her office above. On the car ride home Stiles thought back to what that woman had said and he sped up noticeably, cutting off a red convertible. Shaking his head, he tried to forget about them and focus on not crashing his Jeep. What do they know anyway? They couldn’t possibly understand. They’re just doing what people do best, judging. Hell, you judged him when he first got here! Stiles’ thoughts were running wild as he drove. By the time he reached his apartment, most of his anger had melted away and he no longer felt like putting his fist through a wall. He parked and allowed himself one last moment to muse upon the events of the day. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to ask questions. With his mind having been weighed down enough already, Stiles couldn't bare it if Derek had to carry this as well. He made the decision to hold onto this for Derek. Stiles fiddled nervously with his keys, pulling them out of the ignition and toying with them nervously.  
I heard they make a pretty good pair.

What could that mean? Stiles questioned, scrunching up his face in bewilderment. It wasn't like he had been trying to flirt with Derek. Admittedly it had been awhile since Stiles had a…significant other in his life and Derek was more than attractive. Turning his keys over in his hands he reminisced on a moment from a few nights ago.  
The two sat at the small table in the kitchen eating the nearly raw chicken and cold rice Stiles had prepared. He had gotten home at quarter past eight barely having time to take a shower and make dinner before he had to finish up a report from a previous case. Before Derek, on nights like these Stiles would simply heat up a mushy and nearly inedible TV dinner, but he felt he owed Derek more. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind. Derek's eyes met his as he sawed at the chicken in a valiant effort to make it look like he was enjoying it. Stiles probably should have been offended but all he could do was let out a soft laugh at Derek trying to swallow the rice that was more like gravel without even chewing.

Derek took a drink his eyes lighting up unexpectedly at the sound of Stiles’ laugh, and for a moment Stiles found himself completely lost in his captivating green eyes. Even though Derek's smile had become a somewhat regular element of living with him, it still made Stiles’ mind reel, and incapacitate him of the ability to form complete sentences.  
Finally surrendering, Derek put his fork down and sighed, "Stiles maybe we should order a pizza," Derek managed to sound marginally apologetic before taking both their plates and tossing the food, and Stiles really couldn’t argue. Once the food was disposed of he turned back to Stiles and laughed genuinely. "Not that I don't love your cooking." Stiles, who had been grabbing the pizza menu, stuck out his tongue with all the maturity of a five year old before calling the number on the menu.  
A few hours later after the pizza had not only arrived, but was polished off in a mere fifteen minutes, Stiles sat at the table reviewing his newest case. The body of an eighteen year old boy had just been discovered on the edge of town. Stiles shivered at the thought, remembering Isaac. The boy was the same age, and even though Stiles knew he was being ridiculous the thought chilled him to the bone.

Derek came up behind him leaning down until his lips were inches from Stiles’ ear, "Whatcha working on?" He asked with fake innocence. Another shiver ran down Stiles spine once again, but for a completely different reason. Derek knew how Stiles reacted to these situations yet he continued to abash him. Without waiting for an answer, Derek took a seat as close as he could get to Stiles without physically touching him. They sat together in silence for a few more minutes, with Derek tapping an uneven rhythm on the couch and Stiles trying his hardest to focus on what he was reading. Finally Derek broke the silence with, "You should let me cook you dinner, before we die of radiation poisoning or something," Derek suggested, attempting to sound as indifferent or nonchalant as possible. Stiles looked up in surprise at his words

"Since when did you turn into a housewife, Der?" Stiles teased using the nickname to further the joke. Scowling slightly, Derek started to pull away ,when Stiles gripped his shoulder tightly.

Stiles could still remember the warmth that had spread down his arm as he had touched Derek.

Derek looked at his shoulder, than back to Stiles, then at his shoulder once again. Stiles simply shook at his head and laughed, finally relenting, "Derek wait. Okay, sure. When?" A smile danced across Derek's lips and Stiles couldn't help but return it. A small burst of arousal pulsed through him at the thought of what those lips would feel like pressed against his own.

"Friday night," Derek responded without hesitation, sounding as though he had rehearsed this in his head more than once.

"Deal."

Stiles snapped out of his reverie upon recalling that today was Friday. His stomach growled as if to remind him, but he allowed himself to let the moment play out once more in his head. He smiled. Stiles was rather fond of the memory, but now parts of it made his stomach clench with uncertainty. He looked down at his keys as if they held the answers he was so desperately searching for. Did he like Derek? No. Stiles wasn't allowed to like Derek to such an extent, and even if he did the other man wouldn't return the feelings.  
He pushed it away completely as he got out of his car and took the steps two at a time to get to his apartment, where Derek no doubt sat waiting. He opened his door and his senses were immediately assaulted by an onslaught of mouth watering aromas. Dropping his files on the table, Stiles followed the scent in almost trance like state to the kitchen, where Derek was absorbed in preparing dinner. If Derek had noticed him, he wasn't making it known. His back was to Stiles, as he leaned over the stove adding salt to some unidentifiable delicacy. His back muscled moved fluidly, successfully distracting the younger man. It amazed Stiles that even while cooking, Derek still managed to look masculine. Stiles watched, dumbfounded as Derek whisked a perfectly cooked chicken out of the oven with a clearly practiced ease.

His brow was furrowed and he was biting his lip slightly in a way that absolutely infatuated Stiles. The idea that Derek had done this all for him made him giddy. If circumstances were different... Maybe if I just gave it time- Stiles cut off his train of thought abruptly. Shaking away the last of that warm, dizzyingly happy feeling, Stiles decided his staring was getting a little creepy and cleared his throat loud enough to get Derek’s attention.

Derek whirled around, his look of initial surprise was quickly replaced with a small smile upon seeing Stiles. Still at a slight loss for words, Stiles could only smile back.

"You're late," Derek joked, as he placed each of his delicacies on the table.

"I uh...," Stiles trailed off suddenly remembering the women from the office.

"Stiles, relax," Derek said with an all too familiar roll of his eyes. Now however, the animosity in his mocking was gone, replaced with a look of genuine joking and maybe, just maybe, what Stiles hoped was happiness. Stiles stood frozen to the spot as he always was whenever Derek’s shining hazel orbs locked him in place. Derek looking down and gesturing for Stiles to take a seat eventually broke the stare.

Stiles quickly sat down, and began fiddling with the edge of his placemat in an effort to curb his nervousness. If Derek noticed his obvious anxiety he either ignored it or simply didn’t care. Passing Stiles a heaping plate laden with food, Derek motioned for him to eat. Shoveling an enormous forkful of chicken and rice into his mouth in a manner that certainly would have made Lydia squirm, Stiles let out an involuntary noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh that he didn’t even know could come out of a human’s mouth, at the heavenly taste of the food.

The next twenty minutes consisted of Stiles inhaling his dinner and answering Derek's questions about his day between mouthfuls. He was almost amazed at the easy flow of their conversation until Derek casually asked, "So why were you late?".  
Stiles nearly choked in his bite of rice, spitting it out in a napkin.

"I was, um, doing some extra work," Stiles lied. Derek raised his eyebrows skeptically, but let the matter go, for which Stiles was unbelievably grateful. The next few minutes passed in surprisingly comfortable silence. Stiles could see Derek’s eyes following every nervous fidget of his hands, and unsuccessfully tried to calm his hyperactive nerves. Despite the earlier ease, the silence and constant attention to his every move was making Stiles feel like he was under a microscope. Gulping down one last morsel, Stiles began to stand up to excuse himself, "Thanks for dinner Derek, but I'm pretty beat so-" Stiles began before he was cut off.

“Sticking your oh-so-generous cook with the dishes then? That’s gracious," Derek smirked with another good natured eye roll. With a huff of resignation and a smirk of his own, Stiles picked up his plate from the table and joined Derek at the sink.

"You wash I'll dry. I'm not completely heartless Derek," Stiles retorted.

Ten minutes later they were halfway done with the dishes. Derek had promised to be efficient so Stiles could get his beauty sleep, and so far he had kept his promise. They worked together in sync for another thirty minutes or so, with Stiles occasionally making off handed comments and Derek replying with a low husky laugh, before again lapsing into a comfortable silence.

After stacking the plates he was working on carefully into the cabinet, Stiles bent over to reach into the sink to get the last of the dishes, not realizing Derek was doing exactly the same thing until Derek’s forehead brushed against his own, startling Stiles into looking up at Derek who was staring right back at him. Stiles knew he should look away. He knew he should just laugh it off, and make some joke about him being clumsy. But he didn’t. He just stared. And Derek stared back. For the first time since Derek had moved in, Stiles allowed himself to fully drink in the other man’s breath taking features without feeling like he was doing something wrong. Stiles’ eyes roamed across his high cheekbones, defined jawline, and impossibly long lashes; so long that they curved upward, framing his stunning green eyes.

He really does have beautiful eyes. Stiles thought to himself for what must have been the thousandth time.

Stiles’ wandering eyes finally came to a rest on Derek’s lips. He had no doubt they were as soft and inviting as they looked. They were only inches away from his own, close enough that all he had to do was lean forward to seal the almost nonexistent gap between them. He watched as Derek’s eyes flicked down to his own lips, Stiles’ breath catching. His heart began to race as Derek leaned forward a little, so little in fact that had Stiles’s every sense not been in overdrive he may have missed it. But he didn’t. As if on instinct, his body acting before his mind could have a chance to interject, Stiles reciprocated and began to lean forward, Derek’s lips just mere inches in front of him.  
The phone began to ring.

The sharp noise rang through the apartment like a siren, jolting them from their previous position, and breaking the moment. Derek took a few steps back, lips still slightly parted, a slightly shocked look on his face. Stiles blinked a few times, and swallowed, trying to return his heart rate back to normal. The ringing stopped as the answering machine started recording a familiar voice.

Hey Stiles it's Scott. I heard about what happened at work today. Those women shouldn't have said those things about Derek. I know it's been rough on you, but if you need to talk just call me. Seriously.

The machine cute off harshly, leaving a silence that seemed almost suffocating. Derek looked at Stiles, clearly confused. Digging his fingers into the cool granite of the counter, Stiles took a breath, steeling his nerves upon realizing he’d have to tell Derek what the women at work were saying.

"Stiles, what was he talking about?" Derek questioned, utterly confused, and what Stiles thought with a guilty pang, may have been a little hurt.

"Nothing. Derek it's nothing honestly, just a few co workers," Stiles tried to reassure Derek, whose initial confusion was growing into a rapidly rising anger as he began to put two and two together.

"What. Happened?" Derek's demanded, his harsh tone leaving no room for Stiles to try and change the subject.

Stiles exhaled heavily, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "They just said a bunch of stuff about how I shouldn't be helping you out. I told them they had no idea what they were talking about though," Stiles said, desperately trying to end this conversation. He knew Derek wouldn’t have taken this well.

"You shouldn't have done that." Derek said, looking off to the side, balling his hands into fists and clenching his jaw tightly.

Stiles wasn't expecting that. He floundered for an answer, mouth opening and closing in sheer astonishment. "I don't understand," were the only words Stiles could find.

"I don't need you to fight my battles Stiles. You think I don’t already know what a burden I am to you?" Derek's jaw twitched slightly as he directed his gaze to Stiles. Apology and regret stained his face like a bad painting.

Stiles was completely taken aback. Not knowing how to make Derek believe otherwise he simply said, "I don't care. Derek, for the life of me, I. Don't. Care."

"Stiles you don’t have to pretend. I fuck up everyone’s life I have ever gotten involved in, it was just a matter of time before you were next. Let's just forget this ever happened,"

Derek said with a defeated sigh. He met Stiles’ hurt gaze, but his eyes remained impassive. Stiles had no idea how to remedy the situation, or how it had gone from an almost kiss, to this in under a minute. He wanted to say something, he couldn’t bear the broken, guilty tone in Derek’s voice, or the fact that Derek was blaming himself for something he couldn’t possibly control. But he simply didn’t know what to say.

Without another word Derek turned and stalked out of the kitchen. Stiles stared at the spot where Derek had stood, willing Derek to come back so he could apologize, so he could tell him that this wasn’t his fault, that nothing was. But you can’t, he thought, slumping against the kitchen counter.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles heard the bang of the apartment door echoing as Derek grabbed his coat and exited.

Stiles noticed his iron grip on the counter and loosened it as he slid to the floor. He felt his hands come up and his fingernails scraped through his hair. His back leaned against the knob of a cabinet but he couldn't be bothered to move. Stiles ran a hand over his face and he could practically still feel Derek's warm breath ghosting over his lips. He could faintly smell the dinner that Derek had cooked not long ago,but the scent was rotten to his nose. He sat on the ground for a few more minutes before he heard the phone ring.

"Scott dammit if that's you I'm so not helping you do your case reports anymore," Stiles yelled to no one in particular.

The phone continued to ring relentlessly. Stiles picked it up on the fourth ring giving an exasperated hello. The voice on the other end was not however what he expected. "Boy somebody sounds grumpy? What's the matter Stiles, are you not playing nice with your new roommate,", he could practically feel Lydia’s smirk through the line. When Stiles didn’t immediately respond, Lydia’s voice softened and she asked with a gentle yet firm urgency,. "Stiles, did something happen with Derek?"

The line was quiet for a few minutes. Stiles didn't know how to put into words what had happened. We were having a nice dinner and we almost kissed but Scott called and then Derek walked out and everything is a mess and I don't know what to do, didn't sound like the right thing to say. But that's how he felt. He settled for, "Nothing Lydia, it's nothing." He sounded breathy and unconvincing even to his own ears.

"You never were a good liar Stilinski. What happened?" Lydia's tone was still soft, but it let him know he wasn't going to be able to evade the conversation.

Before he could stop himself, he just started talking and couldn’t stop, "We were having dinner that Derek cooked - which was really good by the way - and then when we were doing the dishes we sort of ... almost kissed." Stiles squeaked on the last two words and cleared his throat. Stiles fidgeted impatiently waiting for the inevitable scolding that was expected, but it didn't come. Lydia gasped slightly and he could tell she was holding back. "What is it?"  
When nothing came he sputtered "I'm a big boy Lydia, I can handle it."

"It's nothing. Just that ... do you really think that's a good idea Stiles?" She didn't sound disapproving but rather concerned.

"Yes ... No? God I don't know," Stiles placed his hand on his forehead sliding it down his face. When she didn't respond he didn't miss the chance to change the subject. "So why'd you call anyway?"

"It's about Derek. I have some news," She seemed less eager to discuss this topic, but she pushed on nevertheless. "I was searching through some old newspapers I found at the station and I came across a name that I thought sounded familiar," Stiles nodded even though he knew she couldn't see him through the phone. "And when it wasn't part of any recent cases I began digging into the older ones."

"Well I was looking through Derek's file and I um..." Lydia trailed off and even through the phone Stiles could tell she was biting her lip debating on whether or not to tell him.

"Lydia just tell me. I'm sick of tiptoeing around Derek's past just because he can't handle it," Stiles yelled into the phone. He let out a few large breaths, failing to calm himself down.

Lydia cleared her throat and continued, "I found some information about that prison mate of Derek's. Isaac Lahey," He heard the shuffling of papers on Lydia's end, but his mind quickly beginning to spin with this new information.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Isaac Lahey. Six feet tall, light hair, blue eyes. He was put into California State Penitentiary for the murder of his father. He suffered serious injuries in a fight and has a small scar above his left eyebrow. He was acquitted six months ago and now lives in a small apartment in Los Angeles.

"That's great," Stiles smiled with a new sense of happiness. "What's his address," Stiles mind was racing with the possible ways he could tell Derek the wonderful news. The phone was quiet once again except for the a small buzz of static in the background, but Stiles recognized the familiar disapproving noises he heard coming from the other end. "What's wrong Lydia," Stiles bitterly asked.

"Nothing," she insisted, but Stiles knew her well enough to tell when she was lying.

"Lydia what could possibly go wrong?"

"Stiles you realize that just by saying that you're jinxing the situation right?" Lydia countered, with a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

"Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. Now give me the address." Lydia must have known that he wasn't playing games because she forked over the address within seconds.

"One-fifty-three, Main Street."

"Thanks. When do you think I should tell Derek?"

"Maybe you should focus on fixing whatever problem you had with him tonight first. You don't want to drop too many bombs on the guy at once Stiles."

"I have to go find him first," Stiles muttered to himself.

"Stiles did you lose an ex convict in Beacon Hills. I could have your badge for that."

Deciding to take her previous comment as a joke, Stiles deciding it would be best to exit the conversation as soon as possible. "I'll handle it. Thanks Lydia. Okay bye," he hung up the phone before she could respond. After taking a minute to write Isaac's address down, he stuffed it into his pocket for later and grabbed his coat.

He stood in the doorway to his apartment giving a brief second of thought to Derek. Should I go look for him first? He was sure that bringing along Derek could cause unnecessary complications that Stiles wasn't ready to handle. If they got there only to realize Isaac wasn't there than what would the repercussions be? Stiles couldn't afford to make those kinds of mistakes, especially after what happened tonight.

Making his decision he shut the door, keeping it unlocked, so Derek could get in by himself.

  
############################################################################

  
Stiles sat on a train into the city crowded by a lady with three tiny children and an old, bald man that smelled like cheese. He heard the conductor call out "About a half mile to Los Angeles ladies and gents," and he breathed out a silent praise to whichever god allowed for his stop to be next. He sat there wondering what he would find at one-fifty-three Main Street. Would it be the Isaac that Derek had talked about so fondly, or somebody else completely? He braced himself for what might come as he the train stopped and opened its automatic doors. Stiles practically sprinted off the train only to be thrown into the middle of apartments and building. He realized that he had no understanding of

Los Angeles and prayed some sort of directional sense would be bestowed upon him, hopefully within the next ten to twenty minutes.

He milled around for about an hour, lost and cold, before he managed to find a map of the area. He made a sharp left and two rights before arriving at a small apartment complex. The bricks of the apartment building were darkened with time, but the overall upkeep of the place seemed relatively nice to Stiles. Definitely not luxurious, but decent enough given Stiles’s own modest living standards. There was a small placard out in front of the building hanging crookedly with the address Lydia had given him.  
Stiles walked up the cement walkway feeling his stomach twist into a hundred tiny knots. What if Isaac had moved? Or Lydia had given him the wrong address? Or if there were two Isaac Laheys that had been to prison? The idea certainly seemed plausible. He was diving into this with no real facts, and a thousand things could go wrong. He couldn't help the small sensation that filled him up though, he was hopeful. He steeled his nerves as he walked into the apartment building. He approached the man at the front desk who smelled strongly of liquor and cigarettes. Stiles was too on edge to bother with introductions and simply said "Is there an Isaac Lahey that lives here?"

"Name?" the man asked, or rather demanded.

"Stiles. Stilinski. Look he's not expecting me, but it's important," Stiles tried to sound as serious as possible, but desperation crept in dominating the statement.

The man frowned, but seemed to not care all that much and gave Stiles directions to the elevator and Isaac’s room number. Stiles thanked the man as he sprinted to the elevator and furiously pressed the circular Number 2 button it, pacing nervously all the way up to the second floor.

His hands were shaking and his legs felt like jello as he approached the room with a golden number fourteen on the door. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door twice. There was a moment of silence before he heard a brief "Coming," and the faint sound of a table scraping across a hardwood floor and an"Ow," before the door opened.  
Standing in front of him was a young man who wasn’t much taller than him. Stiles' eyes traveled up from his worn black sneakers and jeans to his blue eyes and curly blonde hair. "Are you Isaac Lahey?" Stiles nervous tone rang in the hallway.

His eyes narrowed, "Who's asking?" he replied, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms.  
Stiles smiled faintly. He could see why Derek liked the kid. "I'm a friend of a friend... of a friend," Stiles tried.

The other boy raised an eyebrow skeptically, "I'm going to need a little more than that."

Stiles debated whether or not to bring up Derek's name so quickly, but he didn't think he could avoid it. His gears turned thinking of another approach. He knew Derek would hate him for what he was about to do, but if everything worked the way he planned then it hopefully wouldn’t matter. Standing up taller to display an air of authority, he braced himself meeting Isaac's gaze and lowering his voice. "Does the name California State Penitentiary mean anything to you Mr. Lahey?" He regretted his choice immediately as he watched Isaac draw in a sharp breath, and stiffen, his sudden change in demeanor incredibly apparent.

Isaac backed away, no doubt reaching to close the door, but Stiles put his hand on it. Isaac shot him a glare, but grudgingly stepped away from the door, widening it by a fraction of an inch and reluctantly beckoned Stiles in with a nod. Stiles stepped inside the apartment and found his way over to a small couch with an equally small television in front of him. Other than a few empty glasses and an open book that lay sitting on the coffee table, the apartment was immaculate. Isaac came and sat down on the chair to the right of Stiles, sighing. "So what's this about?"

"What happened to you?" Stiles asked bluntly, never one to beat around the bush, but noted the way Isaac tilted his head, feigning confusion.

"That’s a pretty vague question, officer. What exactly do you mean?" Isaac replied, with a mock innocence.  
Stiles sighed, "I mean what happened to you? After prison?"

Isaac leaned back, and replied with a slightly defensive tone, "I served my time until they found further evidence and I was proven innocent. That's it."

"What about after the fight?" Stiles questioned relentlessly. Isaac folded his arms again, closing himself off from Stiles’s questions.

"How do you know about that?" he demanded, standing up abruptly crossing the short distance between him and Stiles. Isaac towered over him when he was sitting down, effectively trapping Stiles.

"I read your case file," Stiles said as he attempted to get up and back on Isaac's level.

"Bullshit," Isaac responded flatly. "Those files are sealed shut. They wouldn’t just let anyone open them. Who are you?” Isaac demanded. “Now I don't give a shit if you're an officer or not you're obviously not here on any official terms so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out right now. I'm only going to ask once, cut the crap and tell me how you know all of this and what you want."

Stiles swallowed, his throat having gone completely dry. This was not the wide eyed innocent kid Derek had described, and Stiles was thoroughly intimidated.  
Taking a deep breath, Stiles decided evading the matter for any longer would probably get him thrown out or worse, "I'm Derek Hale's friend."  
Isaac's eyes widened, and he took a few steps back almost hitting the table, and drawing in a shaky breath.

"W-what?" Isaac stammered, "How? I mean, what?" His voice was breathless as if he had just ran a marathon.

"He's kind of...living with me," Stiles offered, unsure of what else to say. However, he quickly backtracked at the sight of Isaac's raised eyebrows.

"No no not like that! I'm his parole officer. Look, that's not why I came here. I came because Derek has been living the last couple years buried under the most insane mountain of self hatred I have ever witnessed."

Isaac was still gaping at him with a shell shocked expression, as he struggled to formulate a proper sentence, “ But...I-I don’t…understand.”  
Stiles sighed, “Look, Derek told me everything. He told me about you, about the fight...everything.”

Isaac took a long moment to process what Stiles had told him. His expression which had started between a mixture of disbelieving and shell shocked had settled on confusion and a hint of guilt. Not one for silence, Stiles went on. “He wanted you to know that he’s sorry.”

Isaac brought two shaky hands up to his face pressing the palms against his eyes. His expression looked pained as if he was reliving the horrid memory that Stiles himself could only imagine. When his hands finally settled down by his sides once again, making fists before releasing them, he inhaled and exhaled effectively calming himself down. The gesture seemed practiced like Isaac had done it many times before. “This wasn’t his fault.”

"Somebody should tell him that," Stiles jokes flatly. The comical attempt did nothing to lighten the mood. Isaac cleared his throat deliberately, crossing his arms and pushing into Stiles space.

“You don’t think I’ve wanted to do that since it happened?” Stiles hadn’t meant to offend him. He opened his mouth to remedy the situation, but Isaac’s glare let Stiles know he wasn’t finished.

“You don’t think that I haven’t tried to find him since I’ve been out. To tell him I’m okay. To tell him I’m sorry,” Isaac’s voice cracked. He let his arms fall to his sides, and he sat down on a nearby chair.

Stiles could see Isaac looking back to him, “I tried to go back there, to the prison, but I couldn’t. How could I return the place where I was almost beaten to death, and was forced to watch the only person I cared about ripped away from me?” Isaac’s eyes looked raw and Stiles gave him a reassuring smile.

“Look Isaac I didn’t come here to criticize your life choices. I came here to do what we both want, to help Derek.”

“What do you need me to do,” Isaac asked determinedly.

“Come to Beacon Hills with me. Talk to Derek. He needs you.”

Isaac looked taken aback. After a few beats of silence he nodded. “Okay. Let me get a few things.” He turned away from Stiles and opened a closed door behind him, leading to his bedroom. Stiles thrust his fist in the air in a silent celebration.

After a few minutes of Stiles admiring the small space, Isaac reemerged duffle bag in hand. He grabbed his keys and shut off the light making the light streaming in from the tiny window more evident now. Isaac paused at the door. He turned toward Stiles and began to scrutinize him. “Why are you doing this?” He wondered aloud.  
Stiles concluded that he wasn’t a very good listener. “I told you. I want to help Derek.”

“But why?”

“Man you really are Derek’s right hand,” Stiles teased. Isaac’s unamused stare however, demanded answers.

“I may have messed things up with him,” Stiles offered scratching his head suddenly feeling uneasy. Isaac gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t prod further.  
They made their way down the elevator in silence. Isaac walked toward a small red car with Stiles in tow. “How do you know Derek will even want to see me?” Isaac looked worried at the thought that had probably just occurred to him. Stiles himself hadn’t considered this, but did his best to convince him.

“You were his closest friend how could he not want to see you?” Stiles reassured Isaac.

“I never went back to him,” Isaac looked away from Stiles and down to his hands. Stiles couldn’t help but notice how much younger he looked when he did so. “I’ve been out all this time and I never went to see him. I couldn’t go back there. Stiles I couldn’t go down that road again.” Isaac’s eyes pierced Stiles with pure fear.Stiles couldn’t understand, at least not the way Isaac wanted him to, not the way Derek could. Stiles simply nodded and revved the engine.

“I guess with Derek you never really know what he wants,” He confessed thinking back to their dinner. “But what I do know is that Derek trusted me with his story, your story, for a reason. He wanted to believe that he’d find you again, so trust me when I say that he’ll want to see you.” Isaac still looked unsure but he nodded and they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think of Isaac? Leave some words


End file.
